Red Christmas
by CallMeHannah
Summary: *Post Season 5 finale!* *Sequel to "Red Poison"* A body is left on the side of the road, murdered on Christmas day; but that isn't the only case the team are trying to solve, someone is missing and a familiar face returns...
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

Snowflakes fall lightly in the cross-breeze, carpeting the ground in multiple white layers of crunchy snow. In the dead of night, they lie in peace, with only the stars as company. The air is silent; children eagerly wait for the passing of a certain man dressed in red, but the few that have defied their parents and took a peek out the window have been sourly disappointed, as the snow is left undisturbed on the pavement. The rumble of a 4x4 with tinted windows breaks the precious silence, the off road tyres destroy the perfect carpet of snow on the road.

The engine is turned off, a man in thick soled walking boots and a backpack slung over his shoulder exits the vehicle and sneaks up to one of the houses on the street. His face is covered by a ski mask, which helps on this particularly chilly night. He carefully opens the side gate, which has no padlock to stop him on his round, and it opens with ease. Next, he had to tackle entering the property; another man tonight may have gone down the chimney, but he does not have the resources for that. He'll have to make do with a thin piece of wire, a lock pick and a handy piece of equipment which hushed the alarm system. From previous intelligence, plus access to the building plan, he would have no trouble finding the control panel; it is all too easy for him to get in, take what it is he came for and leave without a trace. The snow doesn't help, but at the rate it is now falling, his tracks will be covered within an hour or so. It takes a few seconds for him to jimmy the lock open and a few more to turn the alarm off – the small interceptor dealt with that perfectly. He takes the backpack off and opens it, taking out a bottle of chloroform and gas mask before setting the bag down beside the back door. Now it's time to put his plan into action. The bedroom is down a narrow corridor, the second door on the left. It sweeps open noiselessly, revealing two silhouettes on the double bed up against the rear wall. He slips on the mask before opening the bottle of chloroform and rolling it towards the bed, it momentarily snags on the duvet hanging over the edge, but it carries on its path underneath the bed. And now he waits.

After 10 minutes of so, the man warily crosses the bedroom and taps the shoulder of one of the silhouettes, it doesn't stir, neither does his partner. Now it is time to go. Smiling, the intruder gently picks up the woman before making his exit. Not having much time, he races to the back door, removes the device from the wall and picks up the bag. It is like a blizzard outside, which helps to mask him as he returns to his car; laying his prize on the back seats before driving away into the night.


	2. Chapter 1 - Patrick Jane

**Chapter 1.**

**Patrick Jane.**

"Morning Teresa," I yawn, moving my arm to wrap around her, "Merry Chris…" I pause; the space beside me is cold. Looking over, there are no green eyes staring back at me.

"Lisbon?"

There is no reply; was there a call from the CBI that I missed? You've got to be some kind of sick person to kill someone on Christmas Day. Though I don't believe in the whole Christian aspect of the day, it was always celebrated in our household; despite not being believers, it is a day that you should be spending with your loved ones and a day to give presents. Charlotte and Angela always got up early to see what Santa had brought; the smile on their faces was something that always brought a smile to mine. Since their deaths, I have never celebrated the holiday, until this year; Lisbon's idea, I guess. She had bought me a tree to put up in my living room, complete with lights and baubles. She'd been the one to put it up and decorate it, I couldn't; that was Angie and Charlotte's job.

I'd left my phone on the bedside table, maybe I should call, make sure if everything is okay, see if they require my assistance. But on the screen, it tells me that I've missed seven calls from Cho. That's odd, I normally hear the phone ringing, its volume is on full. What the hell did I drink last night? Whatever it was must've been really strong because I rarely sleep past 10 o'clock in the morning, and it's quarter to 12. Something is really wrong. I call the first number on speed dial; but the phone is on the table on the other side of the bed. Huh, Lisbon forgot her phone, that's weird; something is desperately wrong.

The second number on speed dial is Cho; he answers on the first ring.

"Jane? Where are you?" He hastily asks.

"I'm at home, why? What's going on?"

"I've been trying to get hold of you and Lisbon all morning, we've got a case," Cho replies, a little annoyed.

"Hang on, Lisbon's not with you?"

"No, I'm here with the two newbies," he replies, referring to Agents Fitz and Willis, both who replaced Rigsby and Van Pelt after they transferred.

"I'm on my way," I reply, "I'm sure Lisbon has just popped out, I'll leave a note for her."

"Fine, here's the address;" I quickly note it down, "see you there soon."

"See you Cho."

He puts the phone down on me; surely if Lisbon isn't here or with the team she would have let one of us know. Right, c'mon Jane, think straight; Lisbon isn't stupid, maybe she went somewhere secret, what you need to do now is get dressed and go and help the team.

Five minutes later, I'm sitting in my car with cheesy Christmas songs playing on the radio, staring at Lisbon's car in the driveway, the snow covering it perfectly like a fleece blanket. My car is pretty much on the same condition, but it's okay to drive; it started up first time. Lisbon is starting to worry me now; out in the cold, no phone, no note, it just isn't right. But she's a grown woman, who – as I have observed over time – can definitely take care of herself; she would hate it if she knew that I was being over protective of her. And with that in mind, put it into reverse and back out of the driveway, the tyres easily part the snow and although the road is icy, the car doesn't fishtail or anything like that on the way to the crime scene on the other side of town. The weather doesn't make it easy to get there, but as it is a holiday, there are very few cars out on the road, and with the heater on full blast, it's a lot toastier in here than it is out there. The crime scene isn't hard to miss, with several local police department vehicles all gathered around a street corner. There's Cho's car in amongst them as well as the cars of Agent Fitz and Agent Willis. Both of them have worked with us on a few occasions, they're okay I guess; but I miss the old team. Ever since Rigsby and Van Pelt got engaged, and subsequently transferred to other departments in the CBI, everything had changed. They told us that it was a mutual agreement; they couldn't be part of the same team, if they were going to be together, they have to pay the price of moving to separate departments.

Wayne has returned to Arson, whilst Grace had gone to Hostage negation; she suits it really, she is tough when she needs to be, but, from what I have seen when solving cases is that Grace had a knack when it came to speaking to the families and friends; they have gained a great agent. Rigsby was welcomed back with open arms by his colleagues; we do miss them. However, we have gained two great new additions to the squad; Agent Charlie Fitz transferred from Narcotics as soon as the opportunity arose, he's stubborn but is kind at heart, I guess; also he's a little bit of a mystery, whenever someone asks him about his time in Narcotics, he quickly changes the subject, plus he's extremely hard for me to read – and that's saying something. Agent Molly Willis is pretty new to this game, having only worked at a small police force in the north of England before moving to Sacramento; she is young and still learning, but with Lisbon as her boss and mentor, she'll make a great detective.

Parking close, I can see the red river of blood flowing over the pristine snow along with a ladies snow shoe. Cho, Fitz and Willis are all standing, hunched around the body of the deceased, clad in thick scarfs and quilted jackets. Cho looks my way and beckons me over, before I leave, I pick up my own winter jacket and scarf that had been left on the passenger seat from the night before, along with Lisbon's red tartan hat and faux sheepskin gloves. The knock at the window startles me, Molly is standing there, a wide smile cast over her face despite the situation which has made them gather there on Christmas morning. I open the door to speak to her.

"Hi Jane," she greets me, "Merry Christmas."

"Wish I could say the same," I reply, which seems to dampen her spirits a little, "sorry, I mean Merry Christmas. So, what do we have?"

"Female, mid-twenties, single stab wound to the back," she backs away as I get out of the car.

"Ouch," the thought of a knife in a back sounds extremely painful…but interesting to me; the method that the killer uses to kill his victim can lead to us identifying him or her.

"Yeah," she sighs, "poor girl was attacked late last night, left to bleed out on the street."

"Who found her?" I ask, trying not to dwell on that particular train of thought.

"A family this morning, they were on their annual Christmas walk when they came across her around 10:30," Molly fills me in.

"You're late," Cho's greeting is as cold as the weather, "have you managed to get hold of Lisbon?"

"I can't get a hold of her," I tell him, "maybe she went for a quiet walk this morning?" "Hopefully, she hasn't met the same fate as the family who found our victim," Charlie interjects.

I give him a 'don't do that'look which he ignores; consultant or not, I've been here longer than he has and I can just as easily whip his…

"Jane!" Cho snaps, interrupting my thoughts, "Focus, what do we know about our victim?"

Gazing down, I get my first proper look of the victim; her lips are as blue as the morning sky and her eyes have remained open, staring into the darkness of the afterlife. It is then that I take notice of her clothing; it's from the expensive lines, reserved for only the wealthy, there is also a smell of perfume, also on the expensive side, a lot dearer than her clothes, maybe a little too expensive for her salary. Suffice to say, this girl is either from a wealthy family, or, my guess is that she has made a name for herself and has friends high up the social ladder.

"She's a hard worker, the expensive clothes tell us that," I summarise, "she wants to look the part, fit in with a higher class of people. She's popular, receives expensive gifts from her friends."

"You get all that from just looking at the victim?" Fitz asks me, his tone a little sceptical.

"The devil is in the detail," I remind him, he has a bee in his bonnet about something, and I'm trying to figure it out.

"Fine," he dismisses, "I'll feed her description to the agents back at HQ, see if there are any missing persons reports filed that match her description."

"Purse?" I ask.

"Nope, no ID on her, just her phone," Cho replies, "a robbery gone wrong perhaps. But we can't unlock the bloody thing to get an ID or check her recent call list; damn iPhone's, they're so tricky to unlock."

As he walks away, I manage to get closer to Molly.

"What's with him?" I ask, pointing discretely at Fitz.

"First Christmas with his baby boy and he's spending it solving a murder," she whispers back, "so, you have no idea where the boss is?"

I shake my head before adjusting my scarf, making sure there is no icy draft.

"So," I quickly change the subject, "who were you suppose to be spending Christmas with this year?"

"My family were coming over, but they couldn't because of the weather," she replies, "I'm toughing it out alone this year, but as soon as the snow clears, I'm heading back to good old Manchester until the new year. How about you?"

It's all around the department now that Lisbon and I are _involved_, it wouldn't even surprise me if the bosses upstairs know what is going on.

"Oh," Molly nods understandingly, "of course."

I'm glad that I didn't have to spell it out for her.

"Medical Examiner isn't too happy that he's taking an autopsy today," Cho interjects, "Willis, would you and Fitz canvass the area, see if there was anybody about last night, you know the usual."

"Sure," Molly replies, and goes off to join Fitz.

"Where do you think Lisbon has gone?" I ask Cho, as soon as we are alone.

He seems a little taken aback by my question, but he tries not to show it, "don't worry, Jane, I'm sure there is a good reason for her disappearance."

"I hope you're right," I reply, meaning every word.


	3. Chapter 2 - Kimble Cho

**Chapter 2.**

**Kimble Cho.**

At that moment, I have never seen Jane so scared, he has always tried to conceal his feelings, it's something that we've all had to get used to in the team. It's odd that Lisbon has just disappeared without a trace, after spending so many years under her command, the first thing that he was taught was to never go anywhere alone without calling it in first; too many bad things have happened when agents have gone rogue.

"Tell you what, if she hasn't made contact with us by 6 o'clock tonight, I'll put out an APB," I offer, "but I'm sure that she has just gone and forgotten her phone."

"Yeah," his reply is half hearted, which is very disconcerting.

"Come on Jane, I'm sure she's fine," I tell him, coaxing him away from the crime scene as the ME approaches.

We have the joy of being joined by Maxwell Johnson, the same medical examiner whom worked with us on the Venom case. He nods at us before carrying on to examine the body. Molly appears behind us, notepad out and looking a little bit excited with the information that she has.

"Agent Willis," I address her.

"I've got something," she responds, "a resident from the next block, Mr Omar, said that he heard screaming at around 12 o'clock last night. He didn't do anything because he thought that it was just some kids messing about."

"We got his full statement," Fitz adds, as he rounds the corner.

"Great," I tell them, "let's get back to the bullpen and out of the cold."

Charlie and Molly nod, and then find their cars amongst the group of local PD vehicles as well as those belonging to their fellow agents.

"C'mon Jane," I try to encourage him, "I'm sure Lisbon doesn't want us worrying about her."

"Yeah," he replies absently, his eyes fixed on something down the residential street. When I follow his gaze, he snaps back to attention.

"In her absence," he starts, "I guess that you're taking lead."

"Guess I am," I reply, though I am not fully willing.

I have done this before, Lisbon was gracious in giving up that power for a single case, besides, and it was a higher power that granted me leadership of the team, not her sudden absence. This is all wrong; this is Lisbon's case, no questions asked. We'll fill her in when she finally returns, I understand Jane's concern for her, but Lisbon is strong. Jane isn't the type to be overly protective of her, but his body language and demeanour this morning is a cause for concern. We'll give her a few hours, but Lisbon…missing on their first Christmas together…it seems like…no it can't possibly be _him_. But it makes me think though, has this occurred to Jane? I know better than to suggest it outright, so, for now, I'm going to keep my mouth shut.

I arrive at the CBI headquarters about ten minutes later, along with Jane; Fitz and Willis already got here a few minutes before us. We make our way in and ride the lift up to our floor. As soon as we walk out of the carriage, we are met by two familiar faces.

"Wayne! Grace!" Jane smiles.

"Hey," they grin in reply, "we heard that you have a case."

"Yeah," I tell them, "word travels fast around here doesn't it?"

"You could say that," Grace's tone has suddenly gone serious, "we heard that the boss is also absent, what's going on?"

There is a flash of pain in Jane's eyes before he responds; "we don't know."

"Have you filed an APB?" Rigsby asks, concern laced within his voice.

"No," I interject, "not yet. She's probably just gone for a stroll or gone somewhere that she doesn't want us to know about. You know what she would be like if she found out that we had jumped the gun."

They give me concerned looks but I dismiss them.

"Hey Cho," Willis calls from her… well, Grace's old desk.

I make my way over to her, followed closely by the other three like sheep.

"Yeah?"

"I've got a hit on our victim; Jenny Parker, originally from London," she scans the screen, reading the information aloud, "26, moved here when she was 20; parents have died, no siblings."

"She is murdered on Christmas day and there is no-one to grieve for her," Jane shakes his head, "poor girl."

"Any criminal activity?" I ask, sounding colder than intended.

Molly shakes her head, "nothing; not so much as a parking ticket."

"This all points towards a robbery that went south," Fitz pipes up from Rigsby's old desk.

"Do you have an address?" I ask Molly.

She scribbles it down on a small piece of paper and hands it to me.

"Jane, you're with me," I tell him before turning to my old colleagues, "sorry, we've got to go, but it was great to see you here. Molly, can you tag her credit cards? If anyone uses them, I want to know."

"On it," she replies, before furiously typing away.

Grace's eyebrows raise a little; I didn't think how tough that it would be for them to come back here, seeing other people use the equipment that they had used for years. She comes back to room to find me staring at her, she blushes slightly before walking out, quickly followed by Rigsby.

"Ready?" I ask Jane, who is looking at his watch.

"Uh-huh," he murmurs.

"Keep us informed," I call across to the new agents.

"We'll get out of your way," Van Pelt smiles, gently elbowing her fiancée in the ribs.

"Oh yeah," he quickly chimes in, "but we'll be back later, I'm sure the boss will be back then."

"Look forward to it," Jane tells them, putting in his best smile, though we all know that he is dying inside.

"We'll keep you informed," Fitz calls from his desk.

"Thanks," I replying, before Jane and I make our exit.

The roads are a lot busier than before, and the soft mush on the streets only makes it worse. We had opted to take my SUV instead of Jane's Citroën, although it had proved itself earlier, the snow is getting thicker by the second thanks to the passing blizzard. Jane has remained silent, he's been staring out of the window; only adverting his gaze when families walk past; he thinks that I haven't noticed. We've all taken this hard; it's unusual for this to happen, she never goes anywhere without letting us know. It's time to make a decision; I know what I said to Jane before, but… I punch the third number in my speed dial and it begins to ring on my hands-free set.

"Agent Fitz," says the voice on the other end of the line.

"Hi Fitz, it's Cho," I reply, "can you file a missing persons for the boss?"

Jane immediately turns to face me.

"Sure thing," Charlie replies, "can Jane hear me?"

"Yeah," Jane answers.

"Great, I need to ask you a few questions," Charlie tells him.

"Fire away."

"Okay, first off when did you last see Lisbon?"

"Last night, we…"

Knowing that this is going to get personal, as well as not wanting any images in my head, I zone out and concentrate on the road.

A few minutes later, the interview is over and Charlie confirms that the report has been file. Before he ends the call, the young agent tells Jane that this is the best way to find her. He graciously thanks the agent before the call is ended.

"Thank you Cho," Jane says to me.

"No worries, besides, I'm sure the boss will turn up in a few hours."

The victim's apartment is on the third floor of the building, so Jane and I take the stairs up there and knock on the corresponding door.

"Who is it?" a young man's voice answers from inside the apartment.

"CBI," I call out.

The door opens wide enough for us to see a slither of the man's face, as the chain stops it opening any wider. I flash him my badge, as does Jane, and he slides the bolt across.

"Sorry," he apologises, "can't be too careful these days. What is this about?"

"Jenny Parker, may we come in?"

"Why? What's happened to Jen?" the man responds, his voice a little strained.

"It's best if we come in," Jane cuts in softly.

He leads us to a small living room, it's cramped with bulky furniture and a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. He sits on the only chair in the room, leaving Jane and me to sit on the sofa opposite.

"I'm Agent Cho" I reach across to shake his hand, "and this is Patrick Jane, a consultant with the CBI."

He nods, "Rick Gardener," he replies and shakes both our hands with a firm grasp.

"I'm afraid we have brought bad news," Jane interjects, "Jenny was murdered this morning."

"No, no…" he stutters, trying to hold back tears.

"We're sorry for your loss," I add, sympathetically.

"We need to ask you a few questions, is that alright?" Jane enquires.

He absently nods, grabbing a tissue from a nearby box.

"Do you know what Jenny was doing out last night, Mr Gardener?"

"She was with her friends, those stuck up bitches that she was hanging around with," he spits, "I told her that they were only going to get her into trouble, and look where it got her…" he doubles over.

"We're going to need their names," I tell him.

"Sure," he wipes his eyes with the tissue and composes himself, "check her social media accounts, they're all on there."

"Can you think of anybody that would want to hurt Jenny?" I ask.

"No, Jenny was a sweetheart, everyone loved her."

"We need to ask you this," Jane warns him, "where were you last night?"

"I was here, alone, cooking dinner and expecting my girlfriend to show, but she didn't, so I went to bed on my own and left hers on the side."

"Thank you," I reply, noting it all down.

"You will find the guy who did this right?" Rick sobs.

"Rest assured we will," Jane tells him firmly.


	4. Chapter 3 - Teresa Lisbon

**Chapter 3**

**Teresa Lisbon.**

"Merry Christmas, Jane…"

Bloody hell! It's freezing in here, I don't know what Jane has done with the thermostat… what on earth is going on? I can't see anything, not even my hand in front of my face. Patting my hands out beside me, there are a few blankets and a pillow, but that's it.

"Jane?"

I get no reply.

"Patrick?"

Still no reply.

"Damn it," I curse, pulling a blanket up over my shoulders, managing to shield out some of the cold.

I prod the floor with my toe; only to discover that it's icy cold and feels like concrete.

_Calm down, Teresa, _a little voice tells me, _let's just assess the situation; start at the beginning: what do you remember last?_

"I was at Jane's," I answer my thoughts, "we were having dinner with the old team, plus Charlie and Molly."

_Okay, so what happened after that?_

"I don't remember…"

_Okay, well now you need to assess the current situation that you are in, so why don't you take a look around?_

It takes me a while to build up the courage to leave the safety of the camping bed; the thin mattress and uncomfortable springs give that away, and it takes even longer for the soles of my feet to get used to the temperature of the floor.

Calmly, I repeat "you have two arms and two legs, the only thing missing is your memory."

_Yeah, apart from that, you're fine, _the small voice adds.

"Oh, shut up," I tell it, bloody thing is as almost as annoying as Jane.

I manage to get up and walk a few feet to the right before colliding with a solid wall, literally. Side stepping along it, I come to the corner of the room; complete with a curtain of spider webs and some foul smell: note to self, avoid this place. As before, I follow that wall along, tentatively keeping a hand against it at all times as not to stray. The wall feels like it is constructed out of cinderblock as the surface is rough but crumbling, as little bits of debris trickle from underneath my fingers. Suddenly, the texture changes into some kind of wood; I gently tap my knuckles against it, it's hollow! A door! My hand fumbles around for a handle, for which I locate halfway down the left hand side of the door, but after rattling it a few times, it doesn't budge. Damn it! If Jane was here, he would just pick at it until it swung open and we would be free. This doesn't make much sense, I've woken up in a cold – scratch that – bloody freezing room that's pitch black. Hang on, if I'm here, where's Jane? I've been so preoccupied with my own situation that I've not even thought about him. I assume that we were together last night, it being our first Christmas spent together and the first time he has celebrated it since…

_Pull yourself together woman!_ As before, I begin to slowly shuffle around the rest of the room, this wall is made of the same cinderblock as before…but there is a small box about halfway up the wall, just a bit higher than the door handle was. It has a switch on it.

"Oh please," I pray, "please be what I think it is."

Flicking the switch, a single light bulb flashes a few times before turning on, cascading faint yellow light all over the room. Though the light is quite dim, it makes it a whole lot easier to see, and I am able to finally assess the room as a whole. It's quite small, maybe 3 metres by 5 metres with a camp bed and a sink at the foot of the bed, but that's it. High up on the same wall as the bed and sink, is a small rectangular window; but it's blocked off with a thick layer of snow. All this points to one thing: I'm in a basement. Well, knowing is better than nothing I guess.

The craving for the safety of Jane's arms is starting to grow on me, along with the need to touch his soft hair that he has decided to grow out – it looks a lot similar to when he was absent for six months…dammit, thinking of him is making me lose focus, ever since we 'got together' a few months ago, everything has changed...

_Pull yourself together woman! _the little voice shouts again, _stop thinking about lover boy and start thinking of a plan to get out of here._ In situations like these, agents are taught to make the best of the supplies they have. What to make best of a few old blankets, a pillow and a sink is beyond me, but like the saying says, _if there's a will, there's a way. _

All of a sudden, I can hear footsteps approach the door, staying where I am probably isn't the best idea, but if he opens the door, I might be able to make my escape. There is a scraping sound like he is pulling a deadbolt across, and then a little flap opens at the bottom of the door.

"Hello," I call out on the off chance that it may be a rescuer.

A tray is shoved through the hatch before the door is closed and bolted up again. On the tray is a bottle of water and a ham sandwich, although my initial thought is _food!_, the thought soon follows that this man – I'm guessing by the heavy footsteps - wants me alive. Though the thought is pleasing – not dying and all – but the question is why? Ransom? Is he planning how to kill me? Or are his intentions all the more sinister? I scoff down the sandwich quickly before taking decisive action to re-examine the holding cell, if I didn't notice the cat flap like door, then there may be other things that I missed.

_Well, that was successful. _After what feels like an age of searching every square centimetre of the cell, I've come across a small suitcase underneath the bed, empty of course and a key, which although it doesn't fit the lock on the door, it fits the one on the small window. And by the build-up of snow on the outside, it won't be opening any time soon. If Jane was here, I bet he'd be plotting a very complicated and elaborate escape; he'd find a way of melting the snow outside the window and then climbing out of it. I hope he knows, as in knows that I've been taken and not gone wandering off on Christmas day alone; this'll be some story to tell in the future. I wonder if Jane has does this on the multiple times that he has been taken hostage: wonder if people know he's missing. It was bad enough on his six month 'leave' a couple of years ago, we we're worried sick as to where he was, what he'd been doing – when he ended up being locked up for assault plus extras – and who he was with, that scared me the most. At the time, we'd all assumed that he'd headed east, but it turned out that it was Vegas. I bet Jane makes escaping from places like this easy. Eugh…thinking about him right now isn't going to help. Damn Patrick! I wonder what he is doing right now…


	5. Chapter 4 - Molly Willis

**Chapter 4.**

**Molly Willis.**

This is a lot different than I imagined it would be, working in America compared to England I mean; having only been here once before on a trip with my school and seeing it on the television. But being here is a lot different. Regardless, I wouldn't give it up for the world, everyone in the team is great; Agent Lisbon has taught me the ropes; Agent Cho keeps me from doing the wrong thing; Agent Fitz…he's okay, can be a bit distant sometimes, but he has a good heart; and finally, there's Jane, who is a mystery to me – six months and I've still not figured him out at all. At the moment, he's lying on his sofa, dozing away like he hasn't got a care in the world. Far from it, we've had no responses to the report that we filed earlier, which has got us all concerned. Cho and Jane have been back about ten minutes, and Cho is busily adding information to the murder board. Charlie is going through the social media sites and is building up a list of all her 'friends' that her boyfriend described as "bitches", and seeing if any of them have a criminal record or any history of violence. If we were allowed to bet on things, I would put my money on it being one of them, maybe it's naïve of me, but only time will tell, I guess.

"How's it going with the list, Fitz?" Cho asks him, sitting down at his desk and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Coming along nicely," he replies, a lot happier than before, "I've already got a couple of names."

"Any priors?"

"Both of them were involved in fights at high end boutiques," Charlie answers, "pretty nasty too."

"Doubt it's any of them," Jane murmurs from his horizontal position.

Curious, I ask him: "why do you say that?"

"They're more interested in each other's shoes and personal live to kill anyone, besides," he smiles, "can you imagine how much damage blood would do to their nails? Stabbing someone in the back is going to make one hell of a mess."

"Maybe the killer dumped their clothes and the murder weapon close to the crime scene?" Fitz suggests.

"We've got uniforms searching at the moment," Cho joins in.

"They're not going to be too pleased about being away from their loved ones today," I say, "oh crap, sorry Patrick," I quickly apologise, swinging in my chair to face him, "I didn't think, sometimes stupid stuff comes out of my mouth."

I stare at him, hoping for something; he just sits up, nods in my direction and proceeds to the break room.

"Well done," Charlie calls sarcastically from his desk.

"It was unintentional," I try to explain, but any explanation is useless to Fitz; I should know that by now.

I get up and join Jane at the kettle, after retrieving my tea mug from the cupboard.

"Jane…"

"Don't worry, it's alright," he interjects, "I know you didn't mean any harm."

"I know I should think before I open my mouth," I respond, wholeheartedly.

He nods and hands me a normal teabag, which I graciously accept.

"So, who do you think did it?" I ask, changing the subject off my blabby mouth.

He picks up the teaspoon and begins to twiddle it though his fingers.

"You really want to know my guess?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you're the psychic," I reply.

"I'm not," he states, modestly.

"Look, I'm not religious, but I do believe in fate, and people's abilities to speak to the dead, so to me, you are psychic and your reputation precedes you."

"It was an act, that's all."

"Okay, whatever you say," I tell him, "I just think that, hearing about how many cases you've closed, you have some 'power' that allows you to find the killer."

"Ah," he sighs, "I have no 'power'" – he air quotes - "only an eye for detail."

"Really?"

"Yes, for example, you smell of perfume, quite similar to our victim, a present perhaps?"

Just as I am about to speak, he carries on, "no, you bought it yourself a while ago. Six months I'm guessing, you bought it when you moved to the CBI. You treated yourself to said perfume as a reward for your perseverance and you wear it every day to remind you how far you have come."

"Very astute Mr Jane," I smile, "and…very right. People are like an open book to you."

"Yes, and we must look to the right page to discover who killed our victim."

"Jane! Willis!" Cho shouts from the bullpen, "we've caught a break!"

Jane and I quickly meander back to join the team to find Cho leaning over Fitz's shoulder, staring intently at the screen.

"What is it?" Jane enquiries, it's all over his face; we all know what he is hoping for. Cho looks back at him, and after a few seconds, the excitement drains from his face.

"I'm sorry Jane, it's about the case," Cho adds gravely.

He nods before retreating to his sofa.

"We've got a hit from officers canvassing the area, they found bloody clothes and a knife, forensics are going to go over them," Cho explains, "only bad news is that they are a little understaffed today."

"Nothing on Lisbon?" Jane asks, his voice sounding robotic.

"No," Fitz interjects, shortly, "but I am sure that she is fine."

He lightly shrugs before turning over and facing away from us.

"Fitz, could you take Jane home," Cho orders.

"Whoa, wait a minute," Jane flips over to face us again, "I'm not going home."

"Tough," Cho retaliates, "we've got a case to solve and you really are not helping, Jane, for goodness sake, I'm sure that Lisbon is fine. What we really need right now is for you to pull yourself together and give us some help. Okay?"

Cho's little outburst seems to kick Jane into action and he moves beside me.

"You said that you had a list?" I ask Fitz, hoping to somehow diffuse the hyped up situation.

"Yeah," Charlie lifts the single piece of paper up off the top of a pile and hands it to me.

"Jane and I will go and talk to them, whilst you wait for forensics," I tell them, before turning away before they could tell us otherwise.

Jane walks beside me to the lift.

"Thanks," he whispers to me, "another minute in there and..."

"I know," I cut in, "you'd have lost it."

After a long pause he agrees, "yeah, you could say that."

"So," I hand him the list, "who first?"

"Can I be honest?" he asks as we step into the carriage.

"Yeah," I reply, a little uneasily.

"I don't think that it is any of these."

"What makes you say that?" I enquire.

"Just a hunch," he shrugs.

"So, who do you think did it?"

"I need a few more facts before I make my conclusion," he taps the side of his forehead with his forefinger and smiles.

"That's the Jane I know," I smile in reply.

"But I think that we should pay a visit to Natasha Tate first," he hands back the piece of paper.

"Okay, any reason in particular?"

"Nope, totally random."

The carriage slows to a standstill and the doors open; we head out into the blizzard and make our way quickly to my 4x4 in the car park. Before leaving, I put the heater on full blast and it manages to quickly warm us up. The snow is falling thick and fast; we'd better get going quick before we are blocked in. We manage to hit the road before the

Place gets too congested.

It is late afternoon when we reach our final interviewee, Kara Marshall; the others had either refused to speak to us or had granted us five minutes away from their families to tell us about the victim; in addition to this, each had mentioned Kara Marshall, and told us that she was the closest to the victim. A quick phone call to Fitz has confirmed that the victim spoke to Marshall at least twice a day over a three month period, as well as swapping compliments and shopping hints over the plethora of social media sites they used; I haven't even heard of half of them! We receive a frosty greeting when we arrive at Kara's house, which can only be described as a mansion, it took us about five minutes just to get up the driveway.

"What do you want?" Kara demands.

"Miss Marshall, I'm Agent Willis and this is Patrick Jane, we're from the CBI. Any chance we could ask you a few questions about Jenny Parker?"

"Why, what has the bitch done now? Can't you see that we're busy here!"

"Miss Marshall, Jenny was murdered this morning," Jane cuts in.

"Murdered? What do you mean murdered?" She stutters.

"May we come in?" I ask her.

"Yes, of course," she moves aside to let us past.

I let Jane go first before exiting the cold; Kara closes the door and leads us into an old fashioned dining room; paper party hats lie on the table along with remnants of streamers.

"How did she die?" Kara asks, her voice quivering.

"She was stabbed," Jane replies.

"You seem upset for someone you described as a 'bitch' Miss Marshall," I add.

"Yes, we fell out, but that's all," she snaps, "all friends do that! We had a misunderstanding."

"And what was that?" I prompt her.

"Jenny's boyfriend was cheating on her with some slut, I tried to tell her but she wouldn't listen, she said that he was a saint and he would never do anything like that to her. We haven't spoken in weeks."

"So when was the last time that you saw her?" Jane asks.

"A month ago," Kara replies, "we used to be really close, but the whole thing with Rick just tore us apart."

"Can you think of anyone that would want to hurt her?" I enquire, making sure to note everything down.

"No, she was a sweetheart, she was always trying to please us – my friends and I, I mean – and we just took her for granted," Kara leans back in her chair, clasping her hands in front of her face.

"Thank you for your time," Jane finishes, standing up.

"Wait," Kara suddenly bolts upright, "Rick, it's Rick."

When we don't reply, she explains herself.

"He hated what Jenny had become, called her a 'pretentious suck up' because she hung out with us," she adds, "he hated what she had become."

"Thank you Miss Marshall," I tell her.

"I hope that bastard gets what he deserves," she replies as she leads us towards her front door.

"Thank you again," Jane repeats, as we brace ourselves for the cold that is waiting for us.

**A/N: I will try to update asap but I am trying to write this as well as doing my homework for college.**


	6. Chapter 5 - Charlie Fitz

**Chapter 5.**

**Charlie Fitz.**

I really want to go home. We shouldn't be here on Christmas day, working a case when we should be at home with our families. My little boy Cameron…it's his first Christmas and his daddy isn't there, I'm stuck here. As much as I enjoy putting killers behind bars and all that…this part of the job really sucks. Still, it's better than working in Narcotics, that wasn't really my scene, three years I spent there and I hated every minute; total and utter waste of time down there. The only good it did me was I was able to gain experience which got me this job, I'm guessing that because my interview with Lisbon and Bertram didn't go exactly as I planned. But I guess my whole career was unplanned, graduating from college, I wanted to be a lawyer…yeah, I know, ironic right?! But here I am, making my money in law enforcement; it's not that bad I guess. The guys are nice to me here; just as the boss has begun to teach the Limey the ropes, Agent Cho has taught me; things pass really quickly up here, we get a lead and the next part of the investigation is underway. We've gone days without a lead, and then the investigation can just pick up as quickly as it hit a brick wall. Take the boss, she's _absent _at the minute; Jane says that she has left without her phone – and I believe him - but we have no way of contacting her at the moment… but if she was with her brothers… hastily, I pick up the phone and find her brothers' numbers in her file and dial them, at least one of them has to know where she is, especially on a day like this.

Each one of them has no idea where their sister is; this is wrong, this is all wrong. There is nothing else we can do at the minute, the missing persons report has been issued, but that won't do much good, on a day like this, everyone is inside, out of the cold; and the few patrol officers on the streets will be more preoccupied with keeping warm then being on the lookout for the boss. It's just so difficult, we have nowhere to start; the only thing we can do is ask Jane, after all, he is the last one to see her. I'll make a mental note to do that later, whether he likes it or not; Jane and I don't see eye to eye on most cases, to be perfectly honest, I don't believe in all that psychic stuff, everyone has flaws, being a cop means that we have to exploit certain truths to see if a person is innocent or not; not all of that mind reading crap. Jane does protest a lot, and even proved to me on the first day that he could read me like a book; I said that he had read my file. Since then, we've not been very pally, but that is not what the job is about, our job is to put killers behind bars and get justice for those who fall victim to the bad guy; I guess that that is the satisfaction at the end of the day. Our victim today, Jenny Parker, I bet she didn't deserve to die; nobody deserves to die… _C'mon Charlie, snap out of it!_

Cho joins me at my desk with two cups of strong hot coffee in his hands, he places mine on the desk, which I thank him for, and he wheels his chair up beside me.

"Just got off the phone with Molly," he informs me, "they've just spoken to the last potential suspect on the list and she's pointed them in the direction that the boyfriend did it."

"Why is it always the boyfriend?" I remark.

"They are going to speak to him now," Cho adds.

Unable to keep the question in any longer, I ask him: "What are we going to do about the boss?"

He takes a small sip of his still scorching hot drink, and then shakes his head, "I don't know, it's difficult to know where to start."

"I'm going to speak to Jane when he gets back," I tell Cho.

"We need to make a timeline of events leading up to her disappearance," Cho makes a plan of action.

"I've called her brothers, not one of them knows where she is," I inform him, "is there anyone else that she could have gone to see?"

Again, Kimble shakes his head; before scooting back to his desk.

"So, at the moment, we have nothing," I put it bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush.

"Yep," Cho shortly replies.

An eerie and awkward silence falls between us; around ninety-nine per cent of all CBI Agents are at home right now, there are only a handful of us holding the fort until tomorrow; with only two more agents helping out on our case; it's a baron wasteland in here.

All of a sudden, there is a knock at the glass panel, scaring both of us. Cho and I spin around in unison to find Rigsby and Van Pelt standing there, smiling.

"Hey!" Grace seems to light up the room with her enthusiasm, "How are things going on the case?"

Her happiness comes crashing down as she studies us; Wayne seems oblivious to it all.

"No sign of Lisbon?" she guesses.

Cho and I nod, and they immediately take two spare chairs – Jane's and Willis's – from their desks and join us.

"You haven't heard from her?" Wayne asks gravely.

"Nor hide nor hair," I reply, honestly.

"Have you tried her brothers?" Grace suggests.

"Yeah, and they haven't seen her either," Cho feeds them the only information we have, "all we know is that she was with Patrick last night, and then she was gone when he got up."

"Were there any signs that…"

Wayne is rudely interrupted by a beeping noise coming from Molly's computer; automatically, Grace wheels herself over and begins to type away; when she looks back over at us, she is confronted by three… startled faces, only now does she realise what she has done.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," she faintly smiles, before retreating from the desk and returning to Rigsby's side. Her eyes are a little red; it must be really hard for her to come back here. I get up to look at the screen; on it is one of the alerts that Molly set up earlier.

"Someone has used the victim's credit card," I tell them.

"Where?" Cho asks, interested.

"A restaurant in one of the suburbs," I read off the screen.

"Let's get a move on then," Cho tells me, retrieving his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Hang on," Rigsby stops us, "we'll stay here and man the phones," he offers, "we'll call right away if there is any news on the boss."

"Thanks Wayne," Cho replies, "you sure?"

"Of course," Grace chips in, "anything we can do to help."

"Thanks guys," Cho repeats, before leading me out of the bullpen and to the lift.

"Do you think that Jane and Willis are onto something with the boyfriend?" I ask.

"We have to get all the facts, even if the boyfriend cheated on her, we cannot just assume that he killed her because he has this motive," Cho answers, wisely, "I'm sure that we will have the killer in handcuffs before the end of the day, but until then, we have to keep at it."


	7. Chapter 6 - Patrick Jane

**Chapter 6.**

**Patrick Jane.**

I am so drained, all this business on top of Teresa's absence is getting too much; Cho is doing a fine job, don't get me wrong, but it just isn't the same without her.

"Patrick, are you okay?" Molly asks from the driver's seat, her eyes momentarily veering from the road – she is a very careful driver, something to do with driving on the 'wrong' side of the road…

"Jane?" her voice stops my train of thoughts dead in its tracks.

"Yeah," I reply a little too absently, I mentally kick myself for leading her on.

"No you're not," she points out the obvious; "I know it's not really my place, but…do you want me to take you home? I can drop you off on the way home, if you'd like."

"No, I'm fine," I answer her shortly, trying to sound as positive as possible, "thank you for the offer though."

"Well, if you want me to, just say," she smiles, before turning her attention back to the road.

The weather has improved a little, but not much, now there is only a light sprinkling of snow, but it continues to fall and give no indication of stopping. It's supposed to be a magical time of year, but at the minute it seems quite depressing. We pull off the main road towards the apartment block that our victim shared with her boyfriend.

"How are we going to do this?" Molly asks, breaking the temporary silence between us.

"Go with your gut," I tell her.

"How about you take the lead on this?" She's quick to respond, "You're a lot more experienced than me."

"Don't doubt yourself," I smile at her, "you're a great agent."

"Jane," she replies, flatly, "you're taking lead; I want to see the master in action."

"You've seen me…in action," it feels weird not saying that to Lisbon…and in a cheeky way too.

"Jane, please," she turns to me again, only now do I see the exhaustion on her face, "I miss Lisbon too, but I can't do this without your help."

"Molly, let me be frank with you," I begin, "you are a young agent, you're still learning the ropes and all. But you're doing great, the way you handled the interview back there…I'm sure the boss would be really proud of you."

She gives a faint smile, "thank you Jane, but I'm nothing compared to you; like you said before, you can read people like a book, you really are the one who is taking most of the criminals down."

We subside into silence, we both know that the statement is true…but it's not something that I want to neither talk nor think about. Working with the CBI started out with a single aim, to find Red John, now we have that down to seven…but over the years, I have come to learn that there is more, more to being a consultant. Enjoyable as it has been, though not completely satisfactory; I never expected to be working cases with the best team there, to find someone to love again and…be in such demand. My single motive for joining the CBI was to find Red John, seeking justice for Angela and Charlotte, then leave. Now it is an addiction, an obsession that I cannot abandon, seeing justice for others is an adrenaline rush. What I am going to do after that ruthless madman is caught is anyone's guess; will the rush just simply fizzle away? Or with him dead or at least incarcerated, will it become stronger? As one of the leading case solvers – I really wish that I hadn't have called myself that – would I be allowed to stay or would they turn their back on me? I don't know what to believe anymore.

The car rounds the corner and pulls up onto the side of the road, sending a wave of what looks like chocolate milkshake over the kerb and onto the frozen pathway. Molly gets out first, wraps her long coat around her and puts on her gloves. Having sufficiently warmed up in the car, I am a little reluctant to leave the warmth, but we have to get on; the quicker we solve this one, the quicker we can concentrate all of our efforts on finding Lisbon. My phone in my jacket pocket begins to ring; _Lisbon_ is the only thing that comes into mind as I reach for it.

"Hello?" I answer, quite quickly.

"Hi Jane, it's Fitz," comes the reply from the other end of the line.

"Oh," the reaction is a little harsh, "sorry, I just thought that it might be Lisbon," I add, "nothing personal, Charlie."

_Please change the subject, _I plead.

"Cho and I are heading into town; someone is using her credit card in a restaurant," he explains, "are you at the boyfriend's place?"

"Yeah," I reply.

"Well, Rigsby and Van Pelt are holding down the fort; they'll call us if there is any news on the boss," he informs me, "good luck."

"Yeah, you too," I manage to get in before he abruptly ends the call.

Sufficiently warmed up, I exit the car, meander through the slush on the pavement and join Molly by the front door; I give her a shortened version of my conversation with Fitz before we leave the cold once again and into the warm lobby. We climb the stairs and each passer by wishes us a "Merry Christmas", out of politeness, we respond with the same message; but ours has been far from 'happy'.

"Yeah?" Rick answers from the other side of the door.

"Mr Gardener, it's Patrick Jane from the CBI, we need to speak to you," I respond.

The door opens slowly and a pair of eyes appear through the gap, "have you found who killed Jenny?" he asks, his voice is very quiet.

"It's in regard to something else," Molly buts in, "may we come in?"

He opens the door wider and allows us in.

"Who's this?" he asks.

We head to the sofa followed closely by Rick.

"I'm Agent Willis," she replies.

"So, you're from England too?" he asks as we get comfy, "I always liked the accent; it's one of those things that I loved about Jenny."

"Yes," Molly reply is unsure, she looks to me for help, but before I can say anything, the suspect goes off on a tangent, "whereabouts? London?" he enquires.

"No, further north than London," she tells him; her hands fidget a little, she wants to get onto her questions, but he is stalling her.

"Oh really? Far up north?"

"Mr Gardener," I interject, "we've come to speak to you about your affair."

He doesn't seem shocked by this revelation; he simply looks down at his feet in shame and picks at a scratch on his hand.

"Oh, you know about that?" is all he manages to say.

"How long did this affair last?" Willis jumps in at the deep end.

"Only two weeks or so, but I broke it off, the girl I was seeing got a little too possessive," he explains, still looking down.

"We need a name," Molly pushes him.

"Cassidy Croft," he sighs, "it was good, until she told me to choose either her or Jenny, so I chose."

"How did she take the news?"

"Not too well, she turned up at ours…last night demanding me to get back together, luckily Jenny was out by that time."

"How was she when she left?"

"I'm not sure, when I had had enough, I chucked her out and locked the door behind me," he looks up, his face as red as a tomato.

He looks to each of us, like he is seeking our approval; he gets nothing from either of us.

"What time was this?" Molly is on fire, she keeps shooting questions at him, noting down his response, and then firing the next one at him.

"I don't know, at the latest 8," he looks up as if the answers are on the ceiling.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" I ask.

"It's not something that I wanted to admit to Mr Jane," he retorts, "and I knew that you'd just pin all the blame on me because that'd be the easiest thing to do."

Molly flinches, but manages to keep in her anger before attacking the suspect in a blinding rage.

"That'll be all for now, Mr Gardener, thank you for your time," I stand, signalling to Molly that it is time to go.

He walks us to the door and opens it for us.

"Where are your family Mr Gardener?" Molly asks inquisitively.

"They…well, they can't make it, blocked in by this damn snow," he replies.

"That's a shame," Molly puts a little sarcasm into her voice and then makes a swift exit.

I follow in pursuit, jogging just to keep up with her as she strides down the corridor.

"You okay?" I ask her.

"Mmm-huh," she murmurs back, "you?"

"Yeah, but you're not telling me the truth, what is it?"

Molly can be as stubborn as Teresa sometimes.

"That guy has an affair and acts as if it is nothing," she sighs, "we should be able to arrest people for that."

"It's tough sometimes, but you did well to keep a lid on it," I tell her, "oh, and well done, you did great in there."

"Thanks," she smiles modestly back.

Once again, Molly and I head into the snow, however, it has completely stopped now and the sun peeps out between clouds. The only downside to this is the reflection of sunlight from the snow as it is almost blinding. Molly pauses for a second and looks a bit perplexed.

"What is it?" I ask her.

She doesn't respond; she remains stationary as a puzzled look appears on her face. Suddenly, she begins to discretely trace something in the air with her forefinger, before turning on her heels and setting down the street.

"Molly?" I ask again, following her down the street.

She stops after several steps and heads down the alleyway running alongside Mr Gardener's building. I stop at the mouth, after all that happened earlier this year; I wasn't willingly heading down any alleyway anytime soon.

"Molly? What are you doing?" I'm getting worried now.

She reappears, walks straight past me and heads back towards the car; like before, I jog to catch up.

"What was all that about?"

"I had an idea," she begins, "but it doesn't matter. C'mon, I'll phone CBI HQ, see if we can get an address on this Cassidy Croft."


	8. Chapter 7 - Kimble Cho

**Chapter 7.**

**Kimble Cho.**

Fitz and I have been driving in silence for almost half an hour now; if I was with anyone else – especially Jane – we would be discussing multiple theories about who we were going to encounter. The victim's purse wasn't recovered at the scene, if the motive was robbery, then it's extremely likely that the person using this is the killer. However, Charlie doesn't want to talk, he keeps himself occupied on his phone; as good an agent as he is, his heart doesn't seem to be in the right place for the job – this is just my personal opinion, Lisbon had the say when we needed two more agents in our team, well, along with Director Bertrum. He just seems way too preoccupied to me. We round the corner and park opposite the restaurant that the credit card was used.

"Who keeps a business like this open on Christmas day?" Charlie suddenly pipes up, "Don't they realise that their employees have families to go to?"

I retrain myself to make a comment on the matter and get out of my car, into the icy breeze. I understand that he wants to be with his son, but we all have families, Willis has the worst of it, her family aren't even in the same country and I haven't heard her complain once. The pavement is silent, unlike the workdays which have commuters trying to get from one place to another in a rush, and the slush instantly soaks the hems of my trousers. We trudge through it into the posh restaurant, named Tower Bridge Bistro; inside it is beautifully dressed for this time of year with sparkling white table clothes and festive trees dressed in red and silver tinsel and baubles.

"Good afternoon sir," a young, enthusiastic, well presented man asks, "do you have a reservation?"

"No," I reply, holding up my badge; Fitz does the same.

"Oh," the man's enthusiasm fades, "what seems to be the problem, Agents?"

"A customer here used a stolen credit card and we need to have the details," Fitz tells him.

"What sort of details?" the waiter replies, curiously.

"The video feed," I interject.

"Of course," he replies, understandingly, "please follow me; I'll get that straight away for you."

He leads us through the packed brassiere, stopping only to ask another waiter to cover the entrance. The festive décor suddenly ends as we enter the offices at the back of the restaurant, though the furnishings are still in theme with the reputation of the place. He knocks on a door before a deep voice allows him in, he stops us from following him in and then, after a few seconds, beckons us in.

"What is this about?" the man on the other side of the desk asks.

"We have come to believe that a stolen credit card was used to purchase a meal here," Fitz instantly replies, "we need to find who used it."

"Really?" he sounds a bit surprised.

"Yes," I respond, getting a little bit annoyed, "in connection with a murder."

"Gosh," he begins to fish around in a desk drawer before leading us out of the office, "thank you Gary, you can go back to work," he tells the waiter before taking us into a smaller room, stacked wall to wall with small television screens.

"What time was this around?" the man asks.

I check my watch, "about half an hour ago," I tell him.

The man sits at the desk and begins to rewind one of the tapes.

"This covers the cash register," he informs us, after exactly half an hour on the tape, he plays it at x2, bodies move a little quicker but we can easily see each and every face appearing on screen.

During the half an hour of footage, there are three people that pay for their meal; a man who looks with his wife and two children, another man with his partner, and a woman who tries to pay, but ends up using another card. Fitz looks at me knowingly, "did that transaction go through?" He asks.

The man looks at him, "one moment," he exits the room, leaving Fitz and I alone.

"You thinking that she killed her?" Charlie asks, "the woman on the screen?"

"Possibly," I reply, "let's just take it one step at a time."

"What's the plan?"

"We follow this lead," I put it bluntly, "but as soon as we are done with this case, we are putting all our efforts into finding the boss."

"With you on that one."

I can sense that he's about to cross the line, "before you ask," I jump in, "no, I have no idea where Lisbon is."

"Has she ever done this before?"

"Just vanish? No, not that I can think of anyway. She would never go anywhere without telling is first, it's the cop in her, she's not stupid enough to just go somewhere without telling anyone."

"Then what do you think has happened?"

"Honestly, I don't know, but we are sure as hell going to find out what has gone on."

"Sorry about that," the man interrupts, "I needed to have a word with the cashier. He remembers the woman, says that she tried to pay with the first card, tried the PIN code but it wouldn't be accepted; she apologised and used another card which worked. James, our cashier, only remembered her because she was on her own."

"Are there any better angles? One where we could get a better look at her face?"

"No, we have to go sideways on so there is no way that the operator in here can copy PIN numbers; it's for the protection of our customers."

"Any chance that we could speak to your cashier, get a description of her?" I ask.

"We are very busy," he instantly replies, "it may not be possible."

"How about reservations?" I enquire, "guests must have had to reserve a table, especially for a place as prestigious as this."

"I'll get you that list," he replies, "is there anything else I can do for you, Agents?"

"Just the list, Mr...sorry we never caught your name," Fitz stutters.

"Hendricks, Geoffrey Hendricks," he smiles, "I'm glad to be of service to law enforcement, I assure you."

"Thank you for your time," Charlie tells him, which only broadens the smile on his face.

The printer spits out a black and white photo of our suspect.

"Will that be all?" Geoffrey asks.

"For now," I reply before he leads us out if the claustrophobic room and into the hallway, which feels like one of the plains of Africa.

"Thank you again Mr Hendricks," Fitz repeats, before returning to the main dining room and entering the festivities once again.

As we near the entrance, my phone begins to ring in my pocket; as I pull it out, Charlie asks: "who is it?"

"Jane," I tell him, before answering the call, "hi, Jane."

"Hey," he replies, "just giving you an update, Molly and I are on our way to see Gardener's mistress."

"He has a mistress?"

"Had, he broke up with her a few weeks ago," Jane answers.

"Well, that's definitely a motive for murder," I say; Charlie is now giving me inquisitive looks.

"Have you…erm…heard anything?" he stutters.

"No," I put it bluntly.

"Okay," he replies, "we're outside her residence now, we'll see you soon."

"See you," I respond, before ending the call.

"What's a motive?" Fitz asks.

"Mistress," I tell him, as we embark on our journey out into the snow.

"Do you think thing will ever get back to normal?" Charlie enquires as we trudge through the now slick mush on the pavement.

"What do you mean 'normal'?"

"No snow, the boss here, that sort of stuff."

"Yeah," I reply hopefully, looking up at the dark sky, "tell you what, it's late" – quarter past eight to be precise – "can you drop me off back at the CBI and you can go home."

"Really?"

"Sure, I'll take the night shift," I reply.

"What about your family?" he asks inquisitively.

I give him the 'don't' look, much like the one he received from Jane this morning, and he fell silent. As far as I am concerned, being Uncle Kimble for a couple of days to three demanding nieces is not my ideal way of spending my Christmas day, to be perfectly honest; besides, there is a bottle of scotch in a cupboard in the break room with my name on it…literally – Rigsby kept taking it – I know I'll be _on duty_, but one glass won't hurt.

**A/N: **I apologise for the long wait for this chapter, I have been really busy (3 sports teams, a horse and homework!) so I will try to get them complete and uploaded ASAP. I am literally writing chapters on the way to college in the morning on the notepad app on my phone. Thank you for reading! Love CallMeHannah. x


	9. Chapter 8 - Teresa Lisbon

**Chapter 8.**

**Teresa Lisbon.**

"…as we forgive them that trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, amen."

Those words have seemed to calm me down for now, as they have done so many times before; but that feeling of pure fear from the bottom of my stomach will rise again soon. Even in the confines of this so called 'blanket', which is old, worn and smells disgusting, there is little protection from the bitter cold, as well as the fear. Just as the terror subsides, a chasm has formed from hunger; if this guy thought that I would last a whole day on a single sandwich, he'd better think again – mind you, on some cases, I've gone whole days without a single bite to eat, but none of those times were in the depth of winter. It's definitely got colder and the person who abducted me hasn't appeared for hours; if I'm lucky, they'll be back in the next hour. _But what if he doesn't? _the voice of doubt rears its ugly head again.

"No, they want me alive," I say to myself out loud, "if they were going to kill me, then they would have done it as soon as we got here; secondly, they wouldn't feed me in the first place and they are not torturing me – thank goodness – so it's for ransom."

"Very impressive Agent Lisbon!"

The soft male voice startles me; it's coming from the other side of the door.

"Who is there?" I ask, hoping for some kind of engagement from this character.

"Oh, you know who I am, Teresa, and I know you," he almost sniggers, "yes, I know you very well indeed."

"Well, if you're not going to tell me who you are, then answer me this: where are we?"

"Don't worry, we haven't left the state," he replies casually, "let's just say we are not in your usual neck of the woods."

"Why? Why am I here?"

"One step at a time Teresa," his voice is extremely patronising, "are you hungry?"

"Starving," the words come out before I can stop them.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes," I tell him reluctantly, I hate being interrogated.

_He knows your weaknesses…_ the voice whispers.

A bolt slides across and the flap opens; a tray with a plate of hot pasta and a can of cola on it scrapes across the cement floor a few feet, followed by a thick blanket.

"Is that all you require?"

"One more thing," I answer.

"Oh," his voice a little higher with interest.

"What is this about?"

"It'll all become clear very soon," his reply is very light hearted, "sleep well Agent Lisbon."

The flap shuts and the bolt is slid across again, locking me in once more. The smell of the pasta is too good to ignore; though the sauce is a little bland, it doesn't take me long to devour the whole plate and empty the can of cola, beggars can't be choosers I guess. The blanket is also extremely inviting, it's a lot thicker than the rest of the collection on the bed and it's big, I'm able to wrap myself in multiple folds before retreating to the comfort of the bed. With one hand, I manage to find my mother's crucifix hanging around my neck, and much like I did when I was younger, I clasp it tightly and say a short prayer to God; asking Him to keep Jane and the others safe, and to send some sort of sign to them telling them that I am alive. If there was a time that I need to ask a favour from Him, this would be it.

Being in a room with no notion as to where I am or what is going on, with the addition of no way of tracking time, is exhausting. At this time of year especially, I have no way of knowing how long I have been here. It's hard to conceive that, at one minute, I was with Jane, and the next, I'm in a totally different world. That exciting buzz of the Christmas spirit isn't helping, that mixed in with uncertainty about everything is making my stomach churn like a washing machine. I just want to be home with Patrick, surrounded by the team and my brothers, eating a well-cooked Christmas dinner and wearing those ridiculous paper hats. In a few days, we'll celebrate some more with the arrival of a brand new year, hopefully one that will contain fewer cases for us to solve and the upcoming nuptial of a certain couple. I wish that it was as simple between Patrick and me as it is between Grace and Wayne; from the first time that they set eyes on each other, there was something there; neither knew what it was until…well, that's really none of my business. But Jane and I…we have too much baggage to just _be together_, we both have our demons, but we're too stubborn to admit it to each other…things are just never that simple, or go like they do in the movies – seriously, is anyone ever _that _perfect? Jane and I battle on though, it's one of the things that I love about him: his drive, his passion for justice; I just hope that one day, he will be able to have his own and not be haunted by his past. One day, he'll be able to move on, and I'm going to be there for him. I would never desert him, admittedly at times, I've felt like it, but we're in it together.

"Jane, if you can hear me…I love you," I whisper, "I love you Patrick Jane, I always have and I always will."

I hope he knows that, no, I'm sure that he knows that, but the next time I see him, I'm gonna make sure that he knows.

My train of thought suddenly diverts back to what my captor and I discussed.

"Ransom?" I whisper. But what for? We've haven't exactly a string of cases lately; just ones that were easily solved within a day or two and that's pretty much it. Nothing that stands out to me anyway. I wonder what the team is doing at the moment; do they have a case? Are they relaxing? Do they know what has happened to me? Is that the fear that every abductee has – the fear that no one knows that they are gone, or they have been assumed to have abruptly left town for no reason in particular? Jane's a smart guy, he'll know that something is wrong, and so will the team, if there is anyone that I can trust…it's them.


	10. Chapter 9 - Molly Willis

**Chapter 9.**

**Molly Willis.**

I'm surprised that three of us are still up; Jane is lying on his sofa, he's been quiet for an awful long time so I guess that he has fallen asleep, how he can do that though is beyond me. Rigsby and Van Pelt greeted us with no news of the boss when we returned and they needed to get going, though they told me to keep them updated on any developments in either case. Cho and I are about to discuss notes on the case, he too looks exhausted, but is gulping down a cup of coffee to keep himself awake. Before we begin, he fills me in as to Fitz's absence and what they had discovered at the restaurant.

"Jane and I had only had time for a quick talk with Cassidy Croft," I inform him, "she freely admitted to having a fight with Gardener that night, but claims that she returned home before midnight."

"Does she have an alibi?"

"She gave us one, but we still need to verify it," I answer, "did you find anything useful your end?"

"We got a photo of a suspect who had tried to use the victim's credit card," he hands over a piece of paper with the black and white photo on it.

The image takes me back a little, "do you have a name?"

"No, why?" Cho asks.

"Because this is the woman we spoke to today," I reply, "this is Cassidy Croft."

"Are you sure?" Cho asks.

"Positive," I reply.

"Let's have a look," Jane murmurs from his sofa.

Cho hands it over and Jane nods to agree with me after looking at the photo for a few seconds, "that's her," he adds for confirmation.

"She has the victim's credit card and motive to kill her," Cho theorises.

"Rick also said that she was possessive," I add, reluctantly I'll admit, and Jane notices.

"What is it Molly?" He asks.

"No, it's nothing," I reply, not wanting to go into detail in case I'm wrong.

"Go on," Cho prompts me, much like he does so effectively in his interrogations.

"Well, when Jane and I left the boyfriend's building, I wanted to check something in the alley," I tell him.

"And?" Cho answers expectantly.

"Nothing turned up," I sigh, trying to remain impassive.

"Okay," Cho diverts the path of the conversation, "forensics should have completed an analysis on the clothing found near the crime scene by morning, as soon as we get that, we'll bring Miss Croft in for questioning. In the meanwhile, I want to go off case for a while and focus on something else. Lisbon."

Jane sits up, looking more attentive than before and a lot more interested.

"Jane, you were the last one to see her, what happened last night?"

He blushes a little, "we...well, we had dinner with you lot and then, when you left, we went to bed."

"Nothing happened during the night? Intruder alarm? Lisbon got up for a drink or something?"

"No, we were both out like lights," he answers, his voice shaking a little.

"Sorry but we needed to know," Cho apologises, "you haven't had any threats or anything like that have you?"

"Nope, no threats or phone calls late at night, if there were I would have told you," Jane replies frostily.

I can feel the tension beginning to mount, so I have to think quickly to stop this from escalating even more.

"We just need to establish a time line, that's all," Cho reasons with him.

"I know!" Jane snaps, uncharacteristically; he takes a deep breath, "sorry, I know you're only trying to help."

"It's okay," Cho replies, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his face.

"I think we all just need to take a minute," I say, looking at my watch, although it is only 9. 30pm, it feels so much later, "who wants a brew?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," Cho replies.

"Jane?"

He rejects my offer away with a wave of his hand and retreats into a horizontal position on the sofa. I don't accept his decision and decide to make him one anyway; I haven't mastered the art of brew making the way that Jane likes it, but hey, he doesn't have to drink it.

The kettle is boiling now and three cups are lined up, two containing tea bags and the other with some instant coffee, there isn't any point for me to make a whole pot of coffee for one person. We all have our signature mugs, Jane has his usual duck egg blue one, Cho's is beige and mine has a Union Jack on it: this was a welcoming present from the CBI…well Jane anyway. Pouring the water in, I begin to go over the case in my mind; pieces of evidence, persons of interest, the motive. Yes, it's plausible that Cassidy did kill Jenny out of pure jealously - ouch, crap, just poured hot water on my hand – but what I found in the alley doesn't add up. With a spoon I begin to gently help the teabags infuse the water it is swimming in. Yes, I lied to Cho and to Jane, but they'll figure it out sooner or later. But what I found wasn't exactly what I expected; we have a murder weapon and bloody clothes, they'll lead us to who killed her, but we have to wait until morning; it's going to be a very long wait. I finish off the beverages by taking the tea bags out, stirring the coffee and adding milk to them, plus a teaspoon of sugar to mine. I re-join Jane and Cho in the bullpen, along with the three cups of steaming drinks on a tray. Cho takes off his, blows on it before putting two tablets in his mouth and taking a sip to swallow them down with. I place his cup down on the coffee table near his head.

"Thanks Willis, but…" he starts.

"I know that you didn't want one," I but in, "but it'll make you feel better."

He takes a sip before looking up to face me, "this is…great, a lot better than the stuff Agent Rigsby used to make me," he flashes an all too brief smile.

"No worries, if it's anything us Brits know about, it's how to make a decent cuppa!" I put on my best Northern accent, "well, that and football."

"Soccer," Jane retorts playfully.

I sarcastically narrow my eyes at him.

"I'm gonna take the night shift," Cho tells us, "you two can head home if you want to."

Jane puts down his cup, shaking his head, "I'm staying."

Though I understand his reasoning, I have to tell him this: "Jane, you have to go back, you'll need all your strength for tomorrow."

He doesn't say anything but looks at me, his eyes showing his inner turmoil.

"C'mon Jane," I ignore his silent argument, "you'll never shift that car of yours through all this snow, I'll take you home."

He reluctantly gets up, leaving the still steaming cup of tea on the table and walking towards the exit. I down the tea as quickly as I can before legging it after him.

"See you in the morning!" Cho calls after us.

Sitting in the driver's seat of my Defender, I take a deep breath before starting the engine; which takes a few times to get it going. Patrick slides into the passenger seat, arriving a little later after gathering a few provisions from his own car.

"Ready?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he sighs.

I pull away and manage to get onto the main road without too much trouble, Jane remains silent whilst I go over the case; it's not a conversation of sorts, but rather a theorising session. The only interaction that I get from him is the odd nod of agreement or a shake of the head. That's it.

"Jane, snap out of it for God's sake!" I finally flip and it takes him a little by surprise, "we all miss Lisbon and you moping around isn't going to help anyone. We haven't got all the facts yet, I'm sure that she's fine. Maybe she just went out and…"

"And what?!" he interrupts, "went for a stroll? I don't know about it in England, but here we don't go for strolls without any way of communicating a friend, or leaving a note, let alone for nearly 12 hours! Something is wrong and we have no clues as to where she is! She could be de…" his voice dies to a whisper, he's unable to finish the sentence.

"No, Patrick, she's not," I tell him firmly, "don't ever think that again. Something will turn up and we'll find her, the only things that we can do now are not giving up hope and investigate."

Until now, I have never seen such an optimistic person crack under pressure; Jane is unravelling before me and I don't know what to do.

"I'm sorry for the sudden outburst Patrick," I apologise, "Lisbon is fine, just keep thinking that," I pull up outside his house, "get some sleep," I advise him.

And without a word, he wades up the path to the front door and retreats into his house.


	11. Chapter 10 - Charlie Fitz

**Chapter 10**

**Charlie Fitz**

I've always hated Boxing day; the day when people have a really bad hangover, feel sick after overindulging on chocolate and, last and no means least, it's only another 364 days until next Christmas. Oliver had a great day though, it being his first Christmas and all, he had so many presents! But now the hype is over, and soon the snow will melt and we'll be going back to normal, it that means anything at the CBI. For now, I think we'll be content with the season whilst it lasts. I hope that Cho lasted the night, it was kind of him to let me off early, and I hope the other did too. But today is a new day and something goo is going to happen, I can feel it. My wife Jessica is up and tending to Oliver; as much as I would like to stay, duty calls as they say. Cho, Jane and Willis will probably be exhausted from yesterday, so I'm gonna get in early, badger those in forensics to get that report done ASAP; the faster we can solve this case, the sooner we can focus all our efforts on finding Lisbon.

The traffic on the road is a lot busier than yesterday and there are a few local businesses open with early morning shoppers already hustling in. The weather hasn't improved though, it's still snowing; I'm surprised that there are cars on the road braving these conditions. The CBI headquarters are not too far from my house, so within 5 minutes of so, I'm parking up. More officers have made it in today too, that is going to make our operations run a whole lot smoother. Willis's Defender is parked on the other side of the car park, in between Cho's and...Lisbon's? She's back? I didn't get a call...but who cares! I walk as fast as I can to the entrance and into the foyer. Oh the temperature in here is so nice! The lift is empty, so I jump right in and head up to our floor.

"Come on," I hope the lift would hurry up.

The doors open and I launch myself out, striding past uniformed officers and into the bullpen. Jane is on his sofa as usual, Cho is at his desk and Willis is making a cup of tea in the break room.

"Where's Lisbon?" I ask.

Cho looks at me as if I've gone mad.

"I saw her car," I explain.

"I drove it here," Jane replies, "no word as of yet, but promise me something," he directs it at me.

"Sure," I answer.

"When we do find her, don't tell her that I drove it," he faintly smiles; he seems a whole lot happier than yesterday.

"No leads whatsoever?"

"No, but we've had a break on our other case," Molly buts in, "we've got a primary suspect."

"The mistress?" I guess.

Cho nods, "she's on her way in now, accompanied with some uniforms."

"How about forensics?"

"They've confirmed that the blood on the clothing and knife is that of Jenny Parker; there were no fingerprints on the murder weapon, it was wiped clean, Jane pipes in, "a bit odd, don't you think?"

"No," I answer bluntly, not really wanting to know how that man's mind works, "but please go on."

"You've just killed someone, stabbed them in the back right? So you panic and dump your short sleeve t shirt and the wiped down knife in a skip close to e crime scene?"

"Whoa, hold your theories for a minute," Cho shouts at us, "forensics have just sent me the report."

We subside into silence as he scans the page, giving off no tells as always.

After he has finished, he looks up to face us and a smile broadens on his face.

"A hair was found on the t shirt, it's a match to Cassidy Croft," he informs us.

"It's a good job that uniforms are bringing her in now," I smile.

"Yeah," Jane's voice is distant, he sounds unconvinced.

"What is it Jane?" I ask him.

"This case doesn't make much sense," he answers.

"Not many of them do," I tell him.

"They do," he sits up and I prepare myself for a speech; "there are three common motives for murder; the first is love, then it's a secret, and finally comes money."

"And what about Red John?" It comes out too quickly for me to stop.

He reacts instantly, standing up and heading straight for me, stopping only a few centimetres. Jane is taller than me and he is really intimidating.

"Red John kills to show how powerful he is, that whatever you do, you're never totally safe from him," he speaks slowly, "and some of us have learnt this the hard way."

He turns on his heels and heads for the boss's office.

"It's locked," Cho tells him as he passes, but Jane ignores him; when he reaches the door he picks the lock with ease and saunters in.

"Nice one Charlie," Molly remarks from her chair.

"I didn't…" I try to explain, but it wouldn't be much use; quickly I change the subject, "so, a slam dunk case then?"

Cho looks at me for a few seconds before saying bluntly: "guess so."

Great, not only have I pissed off Jane, but Cho as well.

There is a commotion from the foyer, before a woman is walked - reluctantly - down the corridor assisted by two uniformed officers.

"What do you call this?!" she screams, "bringing me in on Boxing day!"

"She's all yours Charlie," Cho calls across to me.

"Me?"

"Yep, off you go," his tone is emotionless; Molly however is hiding a smile behind her cup.

"Fine," I comply with Cho's orders and follow the pair of officers with the screaming woman into the interrogation room.

They tell her to sit on the chair, which she violently objects to and shifts to the corner of the room. I tell them to leave her and sit on the other chair and wait for her.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"When you're ready, you'll sit down," I reply calmly, there is no need to escalate the situation.

"Why am I here?" she snaps, "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Why don't you sit down and take a drink," I suggest.

"So you can get my DNA and put me in one of your databases? No way," she retaliates.

"Okay, well, why don't you tell me about Rick Gardner?"

Immediately, her demeanour changes and her body language softens.

"Rick's a sweetie," she smiles, "he promised to whisk me away to Spain next year."

"He did?"

"Yes, I went and saw him the other night and he said that," she pulls the chair towards her and sits on it.

"Really, because he said that you 'demanded to get back together with him'," I read from Molly's notes.

"We never broke up!" he voice goes up an octave, "we are in love, he said that he would leave Jenny for me, and in a few months we would go to Spain."

"Okay, so you never broke up?"

"No, we love each other," she swoons over him.

"Have you ever got in to contact with Jenny?"

"Ricky," she squeaks, "he said that she had skipped town with her friends."

"He told you this?"

"Yes."

"Are you aware that Miss Parker was found dead yesterday?"

Her face completely drains of colour.

"Dead?"

"Yes," I don't go into detail.

"No," she pauses thoughtfully, "no, I didn't, but I would never wish any harm to her I swear."

"Where were you at 1-3am yesterday morning?"

"At home, alone, I didn't kill her."

"We found this near the crime scene," I pass her a photo of the bloody t shirt, "your DNA was on it."

After a few seconds, she looks me in the eye.

"This is mine, but I lost it a few days ago, I must have left it at…"

It's hard watching the realisation hit her, that the man she claims to love has killed someone.

"And the credit card you used yesterday?"

"Jenny and I have the same card, I must have picked up hers by mistake. Here," she rummages in her bag before sliding the card across the table, and showing me hers for good measure, "it was an accident."

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes," I tell Cassidy, before retreating out of the room and bumping straight into Jane.

"Sorry," I automatically apologise.

"You did well in there," is all he says before heading to the break room.

"Thanks," I call after him, but I doubt he really cared.

"So, what's the story?" Molly asks, coming out of the bullpen.

"She claims to have lost the t shirt a few days ago," I inform her, "and I think that the boyfriend did it."

"I have something to confess," she whispers, clutching the file she is holding closer to her chest.

"What?"

"When Jane and I went to see Gardener last night and I went down the alley…"

"Yeah?"

"And I said that…well, I said that it was about nothing."  
"Uh-huh."

"I went because I thought that he had used the fire escape to sneak out and kill his girlfriend, but the evidence was covered over with snow."

"Rick has motive; he said that he was going to take Cassidy to Spain, and he had opportunity. If he did use the fire escape, we might be able to find trace evidence of blood transferred when he climbed up," I tell her.

"I didn't say anything because I thought that people would think that I was stupid," she replies.

"It's not stupid," I answer honestly, "c'mon, lets tell Cho about this, this evidence might be enough to get a search warrant."


	12. Chapter 11 - Patrick Jane

**Chapter 11.**

**Patrick Jane.**

The other three - Cho, Willis and Fitz - have gone out to arrest Gardener; I, however, opted out of the takedown and have retreated to my safe haven in the attic. It's quiet up here and I've got a beautiful bird's eye view of the snow covered city. It's a pretty sight...but with each of the buildings merging into one another makes everything seem bleak, bleak in the hope of finding Teresa. I know Molly told me to not this this, but it is hard not to. What if we don't find her? What if we do and she's... I just need to see her again, to tell her something, so she knows that I love her. I'm sure that she knows it; I hope that she knows it.

"Where are you Teresa?" I ask, hoping for some kind of sign, anything to tell me that she is alive. Of course, I get no reply

Having been abducted a number of times, I'm usually on the receiving end of this, but I'm in her shoes for once...and if this is what she has had to go through each time then I wonder how she carries on with the job. It turns out that catching killers is no fun without Lisbon. But now that they are catching or have caught Jenny Parker's killer, we can focus all our efforts. I had a look last night, just to see if there were any clues as to Lisbon's disappearance, but I didn't find anything; damn snow must've covered it up. Cho's car pulls up in the car park and the three get out with Gardener in cuffs. At least one killer won't see the light of day for a while. I'm sure that Cho will take him for interrogation and, as always, he'll confess to everything. There is a knock at the door; answer it and Molly is standing there with an envelope in her hand.

"This was on your desk," she tells me, "I sussed that you'd be up here and thought that I'd bring it up to you."

"Thank you," I reply, taking it from her.

"You want to come and watch Cho get Gardener's confession?" She asks.

"He confessed?"

"He sang like a bird," she chuckles to herself, "you coming?"

"Yeah," I answer, "I'll follow you down."

"Great," she smiles, and walks away, heading back down the corridor.

I make it downstairs a whole minute after Willis; I guess that I was too busy daydreaming and absently opening the envelope as I walked, as it is frayed when I reach the bullpen. Molly is waiting for me at the observation room door with Fitz, they are casually nattering away about the case. They pause when I join them and fill me in with the day's arrest; they had confronted Gardener about the t shirt, which he claimed that he had no idea about; then they told him about searching the fire escape for trace evidence. Luckily, forensics found half a fingerprint in blood on the handrail and are testing it now identifying who's the blood is and running the fingerprint. Seeing that the evidence was stacking up against him, he gave in and confessed everything.

"Turns out that the limey's hunch was right," Fitz adds jokingly.

Molly takes it light-heartedly and elbows him in the ribs.

"What's that?" Charlie asks, "You get your personal mail sent to the office now?"

"I don't know," I reply, honestly, sliding a folded piece of A4 out of its brown enclosure.

Moving away to read it in private, I head for the comfort of my sofa. But as the words on the page are being processed, I stop walking and feel a weight drop in my stomach.

I scan each word, every letter to see if this is true. He has her... He has her and all because of my stupidity. I vowed to myself that I would never let him know about my feelings for her...if it wasn't for me, Teresa would be with the team; I would continue to suppress my undying love for her and we would continue working and solving crimes together as we always have. But that little smiley face confirms my worst fears... He knows, he somehow knows about Lisbon and me. For the past day, all I have wanted to know is where she is, where she has gone…but this letter has just confirmed my worst fear.

They're staring at me; they want to know why I have remained silent; why I am stood in the middle of the bullpen; why I am staring at the piece of paper in my hand.

"Jane?" Cho breaks the silence between us, "what is it?"

I hadn't even noticed that he'd left interrogation until he spoke.

Molly gently prises the paper from my hands and reads it aloud.

"_Hello my old friend_," she begins, "_it has been a while since I have spoken to you like this. In fact, it's been over ten years. I have her, the one whom you have such a strong relationship with and whom will, ultimately, be...be..._" She pauses for a second, before composing herself and continuing; "_whom will, ultimately, be disposed of because of your actions. You know the reason why Patrick, you always knew what would happen, now you will suffer the consequences. If you wish to see the one you truly love, then expect an email from me soon, until then my friend. Yours sincerely, Red John._"

The whole bullpen has gone silent, everyone's shocked and staring at us, waiting for some kind of outburst I think. Right on cue, Willis's computer beeps and she immediately responds.

She has got an email with a link: an Internet link named "Watch Me." She looks up to us for approval; Cho nods once in reply and she double clicks in it. A small window pops up; at first, the screen is black but after a few static seconds and image of Lisbon appears on screen. She's alive, moving around in circles patting down each wall. That's my Lisbon, always trying to find a way out. On the bottom right hand side of the video is a timer set at 23:49:08 and it's counting down.

"This is a live feed," Fitz observes, "he's torturing us."

"No," Cho chips in, "he's daring us; if this is live, we can track the signal!"

"Don't bother with the email address, it'll be bogus," I add, flipping the envelope over in my hands, "Fitz, can you see where these stamps came from, we'll be able to narrow down the possibilities to Lisbon's location."

"Sure," he replies without any fuss.

Cho turns to me; "this is it," he says, "we have just over a day to find Lisbon and take this bastard down. Let's move people!"

I know exactly what he means, Red John is leading us straight to him; the stamps, the live feed from Lisbon's prison. He wants us to find him; this really is it, it's the final showdown. And this time, he won't get away, this time, he's going to be the one in the body bag. It's the first time in days that I can put a genuine smile on my face, Red John will pay for what he did to my Angie, my Charlotte, my Teresa, and the countless other victims that have fallen prey to him. This will be Red John's final act.


	13. Chapter 12 - Kimble Cho

**Chapter 12.**

**Kimble Cho**

Chaos – if there is any way to describe, in a single word, what is happening at the moment, that'd be it. Officers are all running riot, making phone calls and answering them; Jane is surprisingly calm at the moment, Willis is tracking the signal and Fitz is tracking the stamp on the envelope. Meanwhile, I am a little lost, what should I do? Everything that can be done is happening right now; her brothers are being informed, despite Jane's attempts to control the situation, saying that the 'fewer people who knew, the better', but next of kin must be told as to what is going on at the minute, it's the rules I guess. It all started so quickly, if we're not careful about this, several people could be following a single lead. It's time that someone takes charge.

"Everyone be quiet for a minute," I shout…but it is just lost amongst the chaos, "RIGHT, LISTEN UP NOW!"

People freeze like statues and stare at me, looking a little perplexed.

"Those of you who are working on any another cases, carry on with that," I order, to which most of the room continue on their paths; meanwhile the rest of them stare at me, "the rest of you, put down everything and grab a chair," I continue.

Gratefully, all the officers and fellow agents find unoccupied chairs and park on them; some even join Jane on his sofa. By the end of it, I am the only one left standing.

"This is madness," I tell them bluntly, "if we approach this like headless chickens, something is going to get overlooked – and no-one wants that – the key to a good investigation is organisation. So where are we so far?"

Molly raises her hand, and after I give her the go ahead, she says "signal is being tracked at the moment."

"Stamp on the letter is also being tracked," Charlie adds.

"Okay," I answer, thinking of how to continue.

"Letter just came through the post," Jane tells us, "there is no way of tracking it that way."

"How about fingerprints?" I ask, though, calling it a long shot is an understatement.

"Nothing on that," an officer from the back calls out.

"Well, what do we know so far?"

The officers look at each other, to be honest, we have very little to go on and not much time. Jane subtly signals to me; he wants to talk to me.

"Alright, I need volunteers," several people raise their hands, "I need you to go to Jane's place; that is the last place that she was seen."

They glance to each other, smirking slightly; _crap!_ I forgot that they don't know that Jane and Lisbon are _together,_ and I've just made things weird for him.

"Hey," I snap at them, "she was there because she hasn't found another apartment yet"…among other reasons, but they don't need to know that.

"And what do we do?" another officer asks, grumpily.

"The rest of you can help out on other cases, for now," I tell them, to which they reluctantly oblige to do.

They disperse quickly on to their chosen jobs, Jane hands an agent his front door key and heads towards me.

"Meet me in the attic in 5, bring Fitz and Willis along too," he murmurs in my ear before disappearing into the sea of bodies.

As they funnel out of the bullpen, I approach Molly, who is still at her desk.

"How long will it be until you can pinpoint that signal?"

"An hour maybe, bearing in mind that I have to check signals from across the country," she answers.

"Do you have to be here for all of it?"

"Why?" she responds, turning away from the computer to directly face me.

"The attic, five minutes."

She nods and turns back to the screen, "oh, and that email address was untraceable."

"How accurate will that be?" I nod at the piece of software that she is using.

"It has a 50 mile radius," she replies, smiling grimly, "but it's across the whole country, so you _could_ say that it's accurate."

Bless her, she tries hard to see the bright side of things.

"Great, as soon as you get anything, just let me know," I reply.

"No probs," she smiles and carries on working.

"Hey," Fitz greets us, "any news?"

I shake my head, "how about your end?"

"Nothing yet, but it won't be long," he replies hopefully.

"Okay," I answer, before shifting closer to him, "meet us in the attic in five."

"What? Why?" he asks, but he'll get no reply, we have stuff to do.

"Alright Jane," I say when we have all gathered in his attic space; how he manages to stay in here in winter is beyond me.

He coughs before straightening his jacket; whatever it is, it's making him nervous.

"There is something that I haven't told you...about Red John," he admits rather sheepishly.

We all remain silent, shocked that he has kept something form us that relates to finding his family's killer.

"You remember Lorelei? Red John's pawn?" He asks.

"Yeah," I reply, being the only one in the room bar Jane who around when she was.

"Well, Red John sent me a DVD of her when she was killed," the consultant continues, "and well...I was narrowing down a list of names of suspects."

"Okay," Molly's reply draws out, as she probably hasn't gotten foggiest about what we are talking about.

"He confirmed my list of seven men, on this DVD of his."

"Who?" I don't want to waste any more time, "dammit Jane, who are these suspects?"

He goes on to name each of them, some seem to me to be more obvious than other - many of these men are creeps in their own right, without the possibility of being named Red John too.

"How long have you known?" I ask.

"Over 6 months," he sighs.

"Who else knows?"

"Just myself, you three and Lisbon, I didn't want this to break wide open."

"You're an idiot!"

There is something in his eyes that tells me that he has been called that before, and there is only one person in the universe that holds the power to say that to him.

"Right, we need to be discreet about this," I tell them, "I want you two to verify the whereabouts of all these men, even if it means going to their houses and knocking on their front doors."

"And what do we say if they answer?"

"Most of them won't know you, go undercover," I answer, "and then we'll cross reference their locations with that signal that Willis is tracing. Okay?"

They nod in reply, before setting of to do their jobs, leaving Jane and I alone.

"Is there anything else that we should know?" I enquire.

"No, that's everything," his voice is low and quiet.

"Are you sure?"

"Mmm," he mumbles.

"Good," I snap, "because if there is and you're not telling us..."

"No," he replies, confidently, "there is nothing else you need to know."

"Don't hold out on us again Patrick," I tell him.

With that said, I make a quick exit to re-join the others downstairs. I need coffee and something to eat. Rounding the corner, I bump into what feels like a brick wall.

"Sorry," I apologise.

"Cho, we were just looking for you," the wall replies with a familiar tone of voice.

"Hey Wayne," I smile at my old colleague.

"We came as soon as we heard," he tells me, as Grace pops her head from the break room.

"What's going on?" She asks.

"Follow me," I lead them into Lisbon's office, which has been untouched. It is here that I tell them about the letter, the video feed and reluctantly about the seven Red John suspects.

"How long have you known this?" Grace enquires.

"About 2 minutes," I respond.

"Jane's only just told you?" Wayne pitches in.

I nod in reply.

"Look," Wayne begins, "Grace and I have a few days off and we've decided that we're going to help you guys out. Unofficially."

"Thanks guys," I reply appreciatively.

"So, what's going on at the minute?"

I go on to explain Molly's software that is tracking the signal, the investigation at Jane's and the stamps on the envelope.

"Do you think that Red John will send another message?" Grace ponders.

"I doubt it," Wayne shakes his head, "he has no reason to; he's sent his message, all he's gonna do now is sit back and watch the chaos unfold."

**A/N: **Sorry for this chapter being late, I've been extremely busy lately and I've just been writing small drabs here and there. Thank you so much for reading, the next chapter will be posted soon. CallMeHannah. x


	14. Chapter 13 - Teresa Lisbon

**Chapter 13.**

**Teresa Lisbon**

Ow, ow, ow, cramp! Dammit, this cold is seizing my body up; there has been no food delivery this morning, it was even colder overnight and I'm not in the best mood. The fear has been replaced by anger now, if that son-of-a-bitch comes in here, I am seriously going to kill him! All I want is a few answers and something to shut my stomach up, but I doubt that is even going to happen. I miss Jane, I miss Cho, I miss them all…I hope that they are not all in this situation; being stuck in someone's basement in the freezing cold with no food or water. What I would give for a single sandwich… He's here, he's outside the door, listening.

"Are you awake, Teresa?" He calls.

"What do you want?" I snap at him.

"No need to be like that Teresa; I hope you don't act like that when Patrick is here," his answer takes me back.

"Patrick?" I parrot, "what do you mean 'when he is here'?"

"He'll be here soon," the man replies, "it won't take them long to get here."

"Why? Why do you want them here?"

"He...well, it'd be nice to see his smiling face again," he tells me slyly, "besides, I'm sure he would want to talk to me about this situation in particular."

"Who are you?" the words pass my lips before I am able to stop them.

"Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon," he chuckles, "surely you know who I am. You have been chasing my tail for so long that you have nearly caught me on some occasions, but I have always been that one step ahead of you and your team."

I freeze, that feeling of anger that appeared before dissipates into oblivion; instead I am left with this dreading feeling pooling in the pit of my stomach.

"What do you want?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"I want to end this, once and for all," he answers, "although playing games with Patrick has been fun, there comes a time when all great things must end, otherwise, they become tedious and well...dull."

It goes eerily silent, the wind whistles loudly outside and falling snow collides with the window pane. And then the footsteps begin to fall heavily away from the door, he's leaving.

"It's him, it's really him…" I whisper to myself.

_You need to get out of here, _interrupts the little voice.

I roll my eyes at it and start to think; there are only two ways out of here, one is through a door which is about half an inch of wood, and with nothing to pick the lock with…my only other option is the small rectangular window; I don't think that it has snowed overnight, it has melted slightly and just over the top of the snow pressed against the window pane I can see a few tree trunks in the distance. If I can get the window open, with a bit of manoeuvring, I might be able to get out! The key I found yesterday is in still in the lock, from the hinges on each side, the window opens outwards, so it's gonna take a while for me to clear the snow on the outside. It takes a few tries before the stiff lock finally opens and the window shifts a few millimetres outwards, letting in an icy cold draught. Before I continue, I pull the blanket over my shoulders to ward off the cold and then I continue with my escape plan. Millimetre by millimetre the snow budges, allowing the window to open more and more…until it finally gives way in a single go. Something snaps…what's that faint ticking noise…

OW! CRAP! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? My head feels like it has a drum kit in it and my hand is burning. I bring my uninjured hand to my temple to find warm liquid dribbling down my face. I open my eyes; at first everything is blurry…there is a figure moving around, _could it be…_

"Patrick?" I whimper.

Suddenly everything comes into focus and the figure is not Patrick; this person is tall and is wearing a black hooded cloak, complete with a creepy Halloween mask.

"I'm surprised that you wanted to escape Teresa," the mask moves slightly as he talks, "I give you food, a bed and shelter from the cold, and _this _is how you repay me?"

"What happened?" I ask him, trying – unsuccessfully – to sit up.

"I booby trapped that window," he replies, walking towards me, "that's quite a bad burn on your hand; here, let me tend to that," he pulls a bandage from a nearby bag and lifts my wrist up.

When I try to snatch it away, he grips it harder and wraps the cloth tightly around the wound, I curse at him through gritted teeth as the pain is unbearable.

"Hold still Teresa," he tells me as he smears the blood around my face, "there," he stands back to admire his handiwork.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him, "why are you patching me up?"  
"I can't have you looking in a state when Patrick comes, can I?" he replies, "I sent him an invitation to join us, if I am not mistaken, he and your team should be here soon."

"And what happens when they get here?"

"Ah, you'll have to wait and see won't you?" he teases, "the breadcrumbs have been set, not it is time for them to follow."

"If you lay one finger on any of them…" even as I say it, I know it is an empty threat.

"You'll do what?" he interjects, "here's the rub, Teresa, you have no ground to stand on, this meeting can only have one victor, there has only ever been one victor," he adds confidently.

"So what happens? You kill us all and then move on? Kill over and over again to your heart's content, with no-one to stop you?"

"Pretty much what I had in mind," he replies, almost humorously.

He stands there a moment before lifting me up in his arms and carrying me back down the stairs, landing on each of the boards with a heavy _thunk!_ We reach the bottom and we make it down a narrow corridor to the basement. A strong breeze now blows through the glassless window and he lays me down on the bed, small fragments of glass shatter under the soles of his boots, leaving little piles of glitter like shards on the floor.

"I'd be careful where you step," he tells me before leaving the room and locking the door shut again.

**A/N:** My internet is being funny with me at the moment, so it might be a while until it is running again - hopefully, it won't and the next chapter will be along soon. Thanks for reading, CallMeHannah. x


	15. Chapter 14 - Molly Willis

**Chapter 14.**

**Molly Willis**

Every lead is being investigated, so I'm just sat here at my desk, still waiting for this damn software to track that bloody signal. Fitz is still waiting on his analysis, and Jane has been absent since…well, Cho took control and he just vanished into thin air. Everything coming at one must be overwhelming for him, nobody deserves this… Some officers are following Cho's orders of locating each of the Red John suspects; they have managed to find Thomas McAllister in his home town old Napa County, his wife confirming that he has remained there over Christmas and several other people can confirm that he hadn't been out of town. He's off the list, I assume that someone has told Jane about this, if they can find him that is. We've had so many leads dumped on us at once that it's all got a bit hectic.

I haven't been watching the live feed but Cho has, he's trying to pick up location markers to see if there is any way of finding her quicker. His face has been glued to the computer screen, pen gently twitching in his hand ready to jot anything down; but so far, his hand hasn't moved an inch.

"Yes, Molly?" He asks, scaring the living daylights out of me.

"I was just wondering..." Crap! I'm not much good at thinking on the spot, "found anything yet?"

His expression is impassive, "no," he replies simply, "you?"

I shake my head, "well, it has narrowed it down to the east coast, so their location is not too far away."

"Good," his voice is emotionless, "keep going."

"Where's Jane?"

"In his attic, but he wants to be alone," Cho answers.

"Does he know about McAllister?"

He shrugs before his face freezes, his eyes widen and his mouth opens ajar.

"Cho? What is it?" I get up and approach his desk.

"Wait," his voice stops me dead in my tracks, "get Jane. NOW!"

I turn on my heels, sprint out of the bullpen and head towards the staircase leading upstairs, tackling the steps in twos. There is no-one in the corridor leading up to the door into the attic so I pick up the pace, running as fast as I can to the door. Catching my breath, I bang on the door with a clenched fist. When Jane answers, I'm doubled over, trying to catch my breath.

"Molly?" he asks, taken aback, "what…?"

"God, I am so unfit," I gasp, "Cho needs you, now."

"What is it? Have you got the location on Lisbon?" his questions come thick and fast.

I shake my head and stand up straight, "no, I don't know what it is, he didn't tell me."

He closes his eyes, as if expecting bad news, "okay," he sighs, "I'm coming."

"Have you heard about McAllister?" I ask him as we begin to stride down the narrow corridor, me lagging slightly behind.

"Yeah, Fitz called me," he replies shortly.

"Have you been up here all this time?"

"Yeah, I just needed…ahem…"

"I get it, you needed time alone," I finish for him.

We walk in silence back down the stairs and when we enter the bullpen, a small crowd of people has gathered around Cho, some have concern etched across their faces, others are looking away from the screen but none of them have noticed us.

"What is it?" Jane asks, making every officer look towards him.

Several people move away to resume their previous orders, the rest stay put, watching Patrick as he approaches the small crowd. Cho waves the rest away and beckons me closer.

"It's better if you see this in private," Kimble tells us before leading us away from the masses and into Lisbon's office.

"What…is…it?" Jane repeats in short bursts, growing in annoyance.

Wordlessly, Cho logs on to her computer and pulls up the link to the video feed. He stands aside as Jane and I approach. The window has been smashed and Lisbon is nowhere to be seen.

"Where is she?" Jane and I ask in unison.

"She tried to jemmy open the window; it was rigged to an explosive device…" Cho trails off.

"And then?" I ask as Jane goes silent.

"He came in and took her away," Cho answers.

"Was she hurt?" Jane whispers.

"I don't know," Cho's reply sounds honest.

Patrick turns away from us and wipes his face with his hands.

"How far along are we with tracking the signal?"

"Another twenty minutes maybe," I reply, "and with Fitz tracking that stamp, it'll narrow it down even more."

"Get back to your desk, we need to know as soon as the results come through," he orders, before fishing his phone out of his pocket, "got a location on Reede Smith, he's got an alibi. He's off the list."

"Where is he?" I enquire.

"He's been in Malta for the week with his family," Cho informs me, "this list is getting shorter by the minute."

I give him a faint smile before leaving the two men and returning to my desk.

"Hey Molly," Charlie greets as he passes by, "anything new whilst I was away?"

"You'd better speak to Cho, he's in the boss's office with Jane," I answer.

"Why? Has something happened?" he asks.

"Speak to Cho," is my reply, as once again I indulge myself in watching the computer screen do its magic…even if it is extremely dull. My tea has cooled down to an acceptable temperature so I am able to take a few gulps of it whilst trying to be subtle in watching the three men talk in the office. I wish criminals weren't so smart, from the little I know about Red John, I know that he is an accomplished man, who has ruined the lives of so many people, including our own consultant; if he wasn't so smart, he would have been given the lethal injection many years ago and many families wouldn't have had loved ones taken from them. I don't know how Jane does it; he helps us solve case after case, yet he gets no closure for himself after what happened to his family.

The computer begins to beep and the window for the software pops up; a map of the country appears with a small dot flashing on the left hand side, I slide the mouse over and click on it. The computer zooms in on the area and a map of the state appears, the dot is now sending out a circle indicating the 50 mile radius around Lake Tahoe; we finally have a location. Out of joy, I spring from my seat, momentarily forgetting that I still have a cup of tea in my hand and ending up with a small tidal wave descending down the front of my black t-shirt.

"Bugger!" I curse before setting the cup on a placemat and making a b-line for Lisbon's office.

I knock on the glass door and Cho calls me in. I find all three men leaning over the desk watching the computer screen. Jane is the only one who stands up straight.

"We have an approximate location," I inform them, which makes Cho and Fitz retreat from the desk.

"Where?" Jane asks, excitement visible in his eyes.

"She's within 50 miles of Lake Tahoe," I answer.

"Any chance of narrowing it down any further," Jane enquires, "it'd take us weeks, even months to find her in such a vast area."

"It's possible," I reply, "it might take a while though."

"Do it," Cho interjects, before his phone starts to ring; he steps aside to take it.

"Anything happened on the live feed?" I ask; taking that they were all leaned over the desk when I came in, something _must_ have happened.

"Yeah, he brought her back," Fitz turns the screen around for me to see, and sure enough, Lisbon is back on the bed.

"Has she moved?" I move closer for a better look.

"She's alive," Jane's voice is emotionless.

"What's that on her face?" I ask, squinting to see if I can get a better look.

"What?" Jane and Fitz move around the desk to join me, they too squint to look at the image on screen.

Jane recoils, his hand covering his mouth.

"Jane?" I turn to face him, "what is it?"

"He's…" he tries to compose himself, "he's…"

"He's marked her," Fitz cuts in, "he's drawn a smiley face on her."

Cho re-joins us after ending his phone call, "Brett Partridge is dead, uniforms have found him dead at his burnt down house; Red John got him," he pauses before turning to Jane, "he left you a message: 'In what distant deeps or skies, burnt the fire of thine eyes?..."

"'On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?'" Jane interjects.

"How did you know that?" Fitz asks.

"It's the second verse of 'The Tyger', isn't it?" I interrupt, "GCSE English Lit," I add.

"But what does it mean?" Fitz questions.

"It means that he thinks that he's invincible…" Jane answers, before leaving the room.


	16. Chapter 15 - Charlie Fitz

**Chapter 15.**

**Charlie Fitz.**

Cho and I remain in Lisbon's office whilst Molly tries to narrow down the search and

Jane is in the break room, making himself a concoction of some kind that I daren't try to pronounce. Things just keep getting worse and worse, and worst of all, it's out of our control; goodness knows what's going to happen next. We're all doing our best but with every step forward we take, we encounter a new problem. At least we are ruling out suspects...that's it! Out of all of us, Jane knows the most about Red John, if he could at least narrow down a profile, we might be able to have at least some sort of idea where he might be keeping the boss.

"Jane," I call after him, leaving Cho alone in the office, "Jane!"

I can see him through the gap in the doorway, he turns towards me, but his attention is elsewhere. I am not the only one looking for him; there is someone else storming down the hallway calling out Jane's name. He doesn't seem surprised that this other man is shouting him, but his expression doesn't exactly say that he is pleased to see him. The man who is now approaching our consultant looks a little familiar, but I don't recall meeting him anywhere in particular. Jane puts down his cup and faces the man head on, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Tommy," he addresses him, keeping his voice level and quite casual.

"You bastard!" Tommy yells back, sending the whole bullpen into a standstill, "you were supposed to be looking after her!"

He strides up to Jane and punches him squarely in the nose; Patrick automatically recoils and raises his hands to his face, but he does not retaliate. I race over and pull back Tommy before he can deliver another blow. Cho rushes out of Lisbon's office, and is instantly joined by Rigsby and Van Pelt; as the most senior officer, Cho takes charge of the situation.

"What on earth is going on?!" Kimble shouts above the hum of the bullpen.

"It's alright," Jane replies, his voice muffled by his hands, blood now dripping onto the floor.

Cho turns to Tommy, takes his arm and leads him out of the break room, dispersing the now gathered crowd, "alright, show's over folks," he tells them, "Fitz, get Jane cleaned up."

"C'mon Patrick," I say, walking up to him, "let's take a look at that."

Reluctantly, he moves his shaking hands away from his face; his nose doesn't look broken but there is a lot of blood.

"It's not broken," I tell him, which makes him relax a little but his hands are still shaking.

"That's a relief," he tries to make light of the situation and smile, but he quickly winces as another rush of blood begins to cascade down his face.

Molly rushes in with a wad of tissue, she hands it to me but stares at Jane, "he really caught you there."

"Yeah…" he trails off, ripping off some of the paper to stuff up his nose, "it's not like it has happened before."

"People have a habit of punching you in the nose?" Molly asks.

"Unfortunately," he replies, wetting another piece of tissue in the sink.

"Who was that?" I ask, grabbing him a chair from the table.

Jane sits down and dabs at the ocean of blood around his mouth.

"That was Tommy, Lisbon's younger brother," Rigsby steps in, whilst Grace helps Jane to wipe away the blood.

"Oh," Molly and I say in unison.

"Exactly," Jane sighs, "so, why did you want me?"

"Huh?"

"Before this," he points towards his nose, "you shouted me, what about?"

"Oh, right yeah. I was going to ask you to profile Red John."

He looks at me in silence, giving me a questioning look; Rigsby subtly shakes his head at me.

"You know him best," I boldly continue, "so I figured…"

"No, Charlie, you've got it wrong, nobody knows him," he interrupts, shaking his head before rising out of the chair, "if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to finding Lisbon."

"Jane, I meant that you might be able to…"

"Don't you get it," he turns and walks straight up to me, Wayne flinches but does nothing more, "I don't know who he is or where he has taken her; I don't know anything. Red John has challenged us and we are doing our best. I am not going to _profile _him because he is unpredictable, he always has been one step ahead of us this whole time and there is nothing that we can do about it."

Again, the bullpen has gone silent, intently watching another confrontation take place in the break room. I stay silent, knowing that I have hit a nerve with Patrick.

"Tommy had every right to punch me because I failed him and his sister…I am supposed to protect Lisbon through thick and thin and I failed," his eyes begin to glisten as he begins to come undone by anger and shame, "I failed her," he whispers to me, before looking out towards our audience, staring back at each and every one of them.

"Jane, I…" I try to make amends, but he silences me with a single glance, before he disappears down the hall and retreating to his sanctuary of the attic.

I follow him to the end of the corridor but Cho shouts at me to stop before I turn the corner; "give him some space," Kimble tells me.

I do as I am told and join Molly at her desk; once again, her software is up and running and she is readily waiting for it to complete its work.

"You've really rubbed him up the wrong way," she comments.

"I didn't mean to, I just thought…bah! Never mind," I counter before leaving her to it, "I'm going out, call me if anything happens."

"Where?" Cho shouts from his desk, pulling away from his speech with Tommy.

I turn and shrug my shoulders before heading to the lift; I just want to get out of this place.

The air is just as cold as it was last night - in a way, it's as cold as the atmosphere in the bullpen. Everyone is on edge; I understand why, this case has everyone riled up but at the moment, everyone is pulling away. Jane's ran off to his attic; Molly has engrossed herself in that damn program; I headed into the fresh air and I bet Cho is just trying to get on with it without showing his feelings. Everything is in ruins and results are coming too slowly, at this rate, Lisbon will be dead as soon as we find wherever she is! Why can't anything just be simple?! I round the corner and find myself in a crowd of people with cameras, they are all watching Gale Bertram deliver a speech.

"Next question?" he asks the plethora of journalists, sending all of their hands flying up in the air, "yes," he points to a woman in a thick winter jacket.

"Has there been any word from the kidnapper?" she asks with an annoyingly high pitch voice.

"I am not at liberty to discuss that at this present time," he responds, which is our jargon for 'it's none of your damn business'.

"Can you tell us the name of this agent?" asks a man from the back of the crowd.

"All I can say is that it is a senior agent that has been abducted, we are in the process of tracking their location and hope to have them home as soon as possible," Bertram replies smoothly, "and if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to finding my agent."

He steps off the lectern and is instantly swarmed by the press; officers accompany him through the sea of reporters and he stops next to me.

"Sir," I politely address him.

"Agent…Fitz," he fishes for my name, "you're new aren't you?"

"Yes sir," I answer.

"Walk with me, agent; you must fill me in on the latest developments," he tells me and we begin to walk down the street back to the CBI building.

"So?" he prompts me.

"We're currently tracking the location, Agent Willis got it down to a fifty mile radius but she is narrowing it down," I answer, keeping my voice low in case there are any reporters lingering nearby.

"And how is everyone holding up?"

I pause slightly before reluctantly lying through my teeth, "we're holding strong sir," I tell him; he nods and doesn't seem to think much of it, "so sir, how has your Christmas been?" I change the subject.

"Good," he replies, "just spending time with the family, it's a shame we all aren't spending time with our families, isn't it."

"It is sir, it is," I agree.


	17. Chapter 16 - Patrick Jane

**Chapter 16.**

**Patrick Jane**

It's freezing up here, but I don't care. My nose is still bleeding, but I don't care. All I care about is Teresa; I just want her back... But it seems like that the possibility of getting her back is slowly ebbing away. Alternate situations reel round and round in my mind but that isn't going to bring her home. I just wish that he had taken me, tortured me and not Lisbon. But broken bones and harsh worse are nothing compared with what he has managed to accomplish before - if she could hear me now, she would defiantly punch me in the face, and it would be a lot more painful than Tommy's. These are the facts whether I like them or not: Lisbon is gone, she's alive and he has her; it's time to stop moping around and do something. Red John has thrown us the preverbal gauntlet, daring us to find him and it's our time to strike back. We have two leads that we are following up on, and although I'd like more, we have to work with what we've got; besides we've solved cases with less than that.

"But none of those were Red John," the voice of doubt points out.

Red John wouldn't make it easy for us, he never has and he never will; but taking away our leader was his first mistake; toying with us was his second. There are - including Grace and Wayne - six of us and only one of him; we'll catch him. And when we do, he'll regret what he did to my family, and to all of his other victims. I promise that whatever he has done to Lisbon, I'm going to do to him but ten times worse.

With this new, more positive outlook on things; I get off my ass and head to the sliding door. Just as I reach for the handle, there is a rapid knock coming from the other side, followed by my name being repeated over and over in a strong Manchurian accent. I slide the door open to find Molly standing in the doorway, a few pieces of paper tightly grasped in her hands, a broad smile stretches across her face.

"I've got a location! I managed to get it down to a much smaller radius for us to search," she beams.

"How small?" I ask, stepping out into the hallway to join her.

"10 miles, it's mainly in the forests near south Lake Tahoe." She adds, "I couldn't narrow it down any further," she sounds a little disappointed at that.

"Molly, this is great," I smile at her to reassure her, though tweaking my nose is quite painful.

"Cho is assembling a team now," she continues, "we should get down there."

"Sure," I reply and walk with her down the corridor.

"Are you alright...y'know, after what happened earlier?" She reluctantly asks.

"Yeah," I don't hesitate to answer, "I shouldn't have lashed out at Fitz, he was only trying to help."

"He seems a little upset about it," she automatically replies, before turning to face me, "don't tell him I said that."

"My lips are sealed," I smile at her, "you said that Cho was assembling a team?"

"Yeah," she responds, "half the department is going. You don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

"How'd you figure that out?" I ask her.

"Your body language," she nonchalantly replies, "I learnt a lot from watching you," her voice suddenly quietens, "how you never judge a book by its cover."

"That's very observant of you Molly," I tell her.

She shrugs, "nothing to it really; a small shrug of the shoulders, how you carry yourself, it all says stuff about you."

"It's a useful talent," I answer honestly.

"It's a useful skill," she seems to correct me, "anyone could do it really."

I keep my face passive, although a volcano starts to boil within me, I don't let it show.

"In a way though, I'm glad that everybody has the skill," she continues.

"Why's that?"

"Because if everyone did, then criminals would be a lot smarter."

"And the few that have this skill...they are the ones who trouble us the most."

We walk down the stairs and return to the bullpen to find a large circle of people, at least five rows deep, surrounding Cho and a portable whiteboard that has a hell of a lot of information on it.

"Okay, we alright to begin?" He starts, and gets nods from every single one of his audience, "ah Jane, I'm glad that you've joined us," he turns to face me, "I trust that Willis had told you the good news."

"Yeah, she did, erm, can I have a word please Cho?" I ask him.

"Sure," he replies and makes his way over to me, parting the mass of bodies like the Red Sea.

"What is it?"

"Can we speak in Lisbon's office?"

Without a word, he sets off and I follow; we both ignore the cluster of people beginning to mutter and exchange interested glances.

As soon as the door shuts, I begin: "we shouldn't be taking that many people."

"Why's that?" His voice is neutral; if my criticism of his judgment has offended him, it doesn't show.

"It's too big of a risk to take that many people," I answer, "Red John will just pick us off one by one. He'll easily see us coming."

"And what do you suggest?"

"A small team, close knit; who've had a lot of experience of dealing with this sort of thing as well as knowing what he is capable of."

"I guess you have a list of people for this rescue," Cho sighs.

"I do: you, me, Rigsby, Van Pelt, Fitz and Willis," I answer, "we're all experienced in the field."

"More people means more sets of eyes, Jane," Cho points out.

"Yes, but it also means more bodies to aim for; trust me Cho, the fewer of us, the better."

He looks at me sternly before sighing, "fine, get the others in here and let's get a move on," he rolls up his jacket sleeve to peek at his watch, "we have less than hours to find them."

"I'm on it," I reply and stride out of the office.

Rigsby and Van Pelt are on my sofa, talking to each other quietly, despite the racket that is being made by the young, green officers. I tell them to head to the office whilst I dash off to find Fitz; who is pouring himself a cup of something in the break room.

"Fitz," I call across to him.

He doesn't reply and turns his back on me.

"Look Charlie, I'm sorry," I apologise.

He glances over his shoulder at me before putting down the coffee pot.

"I was only trying to help," he answers, his voice barely audible.

"I know and I was way out of line, I was an ass towards you and I'm sorry," I tell him sincerely.

He turns his whole body around to face me, "apology accepted," he replies, before taking a sip of his coffee.

"We're having a meeting in Lisbon's office," I inform him, "about the rescue, you in?"

"Of course," Charlie smiles in reply, putting his best foot forward.

We walk to the office together; the blinds on the windows have been closed and the board that Cho was using for his presentation before has been removed from the middle of the bullpen.

"Hey Jane, you've still got a bit of erm…" he gestures towards his nose.

"Oh right, thanks."

**A/N: **I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter.


	18. Chapter 17 - Kimble Cho

**Chapter 17.**

**Kimble Cho**

We've been on the road to South Lake Tahoe for an hour now, we're about halfway there and I am the only one awake; all the others have dosed off. The snow is slowing the traffic down and it's coming down thick fast. We'll be lucky if we make it into town with enough time to spare to find Lisbon. Jane insisted on a small team; he had a valid point but, in the current situation, I'm starting to doubt my decision. What if six of us is not enough to pull off something as dangerous as this? What would Lisbon have done in a situation like this? As next in command, I should have gone with my gut and brought a whole team of SWAT to capture Red John and save the boss. But then, what would Jane have done in response to me ignoring the decision? Something stupid probably…he would have gone to find Red John with us or without us, and Lisbon would have never, ever forgive me for it. But that's Jane I guess; sometimes, he uses logic and his brain, but in other situations, he likes to play with the fire. At least, this way, I can keep a close eye on him, as well as everyone else; Grace and Wayne aren't really supposed to be here, as for Fitz and Willis, they are still settling in to the 'homicide' way of life. These guys are like family to me, if anything happened to any one of them…bah, enough of this, I still need to think about how to approach our mission. If we go in all guns blazing, people are gonna get hurt; but if we go in too slowly, Lisbon is going to die. I don't want to say it but the chance of this going exactly to plan, never mind go our way, is very remote.

"Are we nearly there yet?" Molly mumbles sleepily from behind me.

"No," I sigh, "another hour or so."

"Another hour?" Rigsby pipes up from the seat beside me – he was the first one to call 'shotgun'. Molly, Jane and Charlie are on the back seat and Grace is on one of the seats in the boot.

"Yep," I answer, "the traffic is awful."

"We don't have any extra time," Jane murmurs.

Like a ripple, everyone in the car begins to stir; each one begins to look out of the window at the snow-capped mountains in the distance.

"Whoa, this place is awesome," Molly smiles, admiring the view.

"It won't be that awesome when we're trudging through two feet of snow," Charlie sits up in his seat and adjusts his jacket.

"Wow, are you always this optimistic?" Molly counters, sarcastically.

"That's enough," I interrupt them before it turns nasty, "arguing is not going to help."

"Just saying," Molly subsides into silence.

"Yeah, well, don't," I tell her.

The whole car subsides into an uncomfortable silence; Rigsby turns on the radio and switches it between channels as every station is playing extremely sad songs, which doesn't exactly make the mood any cheerier. After a few minutes, he gives up and turns it off.

"So," Fitz breaks the silence, "can we go over the plan again?"

"Sure," I answer, pulling into a faster moving lane, "Molly, do you have the map of the area that we need to search?"

"Right here," she begins to rummage around in her backpack before pulling out a laminated piece of A4 paper and puts it across Jane's lap. On it is a red circle, indicating the area that we are going to search.

"Red John is somewhere in the area marked out," Molly tells us, "other than that, there is little indication as to where he has taken the boss."

"Have you still got a line on the live feed Grace?" I ask.

"Yep, signal is still strong," she answers.

"We know that she is being held in a basement of some sort," Patrick ponders, "Molly, how many residences are there in this area, or at least places likely to have a basement?"

"Hold on," she pulls out her laptop and begins to boot it up.

"Is there anything that you don't have in that bag?" Charlie jabs at her, but she ignores it and continues working.

"If we can narrow down the places that we need to search, it's going to make this a whole lot easier," he continues.

"Got it!" Willis exclaims, "in total, there are approximately 7000 homes."

"And that is something to be excited about?" Charlie asks, as we manage to pick up some speed.

"Hey, it's better than half of America!" She snaps back, glaring at him.

"That's enough kids," Rigsby tells them off, "grow up the pair of you!"

"You think that he has taken her out of the state?" Grace asks, ignoring the childish behaviour of her colleagues.

"He has always…killed in California, I doubt that he is going to change his ways," Jane replies, "but he has changed things up this time, so…maybe he has gone out of the state," he rubs his face with his hands.

"Don't give up hope," Grace puts a hand on his shoulder, "we'll find her."

A gap opens up ahead and pull into it, managing to pick up even more speed and head away from the gridlock.

"It won't be long now until we are there," I lean back to tell them, "how about trying to narrow down the properties that we need to search?"

"Sure," Molly responds before she begins busily typing away on the keyboard, "what factors do we need to consider?"

"Unoccupied properties," Charlie starts.

"Remote ones," Jane adds, "he would want his privacy."

"Has that narrowed it down?"

"Down to 865 properties," Molly replies, still furiously typing away.

"What else?" Rigsby ponders, "he wouldn't run the risk of getting caught in a house for sale, how about residences that have recently been sold or rented out?"

"One moment," Molly answers, and then after a minute, "43 properties."

"He's making it too easy," Jane says, "it's just all too easy."

"He's sent us a message, breadcrumbs for us to follow, this is what he wants," I reply, "let's follow them."

"And do what? Get caught in one of his traps?" Charlie objects.

""Be honest, how many times has Red John done this to us?" I ask them.

"Lead us on a wild goose chase?" Grace responds.

"There was that time with Lorelei," Wayne points out.

"But has he ever toyed with us like this?" I ask.

The only response I get is silence.

"No, he's involved all of us; the whole unit, not just Jane, so what does that say?"

"He's afraid of what we know," Jane replies.

"Exactly, we need to go about this methodically and carefully; he has us hooked, it's important that none of us get reeled in. If we turn against one another, he's got an advantage over us, which means that we all have to get along with each other, understood?"

This time, I get a chorus of "yes"es and "yeah"s from the behind me and a nod of approval from Wayne beside me.

"Great, now we have that sorted, is there any way that we can approach this search quickly," Grace inquires, "I don't need to remind anyone that time isn't on our side."

"Start with the properties that are furthest away from well-populated areas; like Wayne said, he likes his privacy."

"Furthest one away is a log cabin, rented out a week ago," Molly reads aloud off the screen, "oh…"

"Oh…what?" we all ask her in unison.

"It's going to be hard to get to," she answers, "the only access to it is a single road that is probably going to be blocked off with snow."

"How long has it been rented out for?"

She busily types on her keyboard before saying: "I'll ring the super, I've got their number."

"Who is left of the suspects?" Charlie reluctantly asks.

"Bret Stiles, Bob Kirkland, Gale Bertram and Ray Haffner," Jane lists the names slowly.

"It's narrowing down, isn't it," Molly tries to sound enthusiastic.

"There are still four of them out there," Jane replies, reminding us, "four very dangerous men."

"I haven't pulled any of the teams off locating each of the suspects, as soon as they find them, we'll know," I inform them.

"Hey, I've got the name of the person who rented the cabin," Molly smiles to herself, "a Carmen Leigh, is that familiar to anyone?"

"Nope," everyone but Jane replies.

"Jane, you want to say something?" Charlie prompts him.

"No, it's nothing," he replies, deep in thought.

"Really, Jane?" Wayne turns round in his seat to face him.

"Well, I'm sure that I've heard that name somewhere, but I just can't place it."

I turn my attention to the open road ahead of us; "traffic's clearing, we'll be there soon."


	19. Chapter 18 - Wayne Rigsby

**Chapter 18.**

**Wayne Rigsby**

We spend the next half hour or so on the road to South Lake Tahoe in silence, which was nice in some respects for me as I am able to think about what has happened over the last few days. Proposing to Grace was probably the best thing that I have ever done and there are no regrets there; I only wish that we both could have stayed in the unit – don't get me wrong, Charlie and Molly are great – but watching them use our old computers, sit at our old desks and just _being_ part of the team has been agonising to watch. I only wish that we had returned under better circumstances to work with Jane and Cho again.

"Rigsby!" Cho snaps me out of my revelry.

"Huh…what?"

"I said 'have you got the map?'," he answers sharply.

"Oh, yeah," I pull it out of my bag that is down in the foot well.

"Good, we're gonna need that to navigate up to this house," he keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead, taking orders from the Sat Nav on route to our destination.

I remember this one time that Jane joked about using Lisbon for the voice on Cho's s Sat Nav, as she was the only woman who he would take orders from.

"What you smirking about?" Cho asks, turning his eyes away from the road and resting them on me.

"Oh," I cough uncomfortably, "nothing."

There is a sad twinkle in his eye that tells me he knows what I was laughing at; if we don't find her…no, I'm not giving into that mentality.

"Time?" I ask Molly, who has been watching the live feed for a number of minutes.

"17 hours, 49 minutes...48 minutes," she answers.

"And how long will it take to get up to the cabin?"

"Depending on the route, 3 to 4 hours," Molly replies, "and if we get lost or not."

"Shotgun not taking responsibility for navigation," I call out before I forget.

"I've got that covered," Molly reaches down and pulls out a yellow device; "mobile phones aren't going to be much use up there so I brought a GPS thingy."

"Is that the technical term for it?" Jane asks, jokingly.

"Yeah," she smiles.

"But what if we don't get it right?" Grace puts it out there, "we're going to have wasted about 8 hours just getting there and back from this place."

"It's a risk that we're going to have to take," Charlie replies, drawing stares from everyone but Cho, "what?" he asks, defensively.

"Never mind," I chuckle and settle back sown in my seat just to see the first house for what seems like a lifetime pass by the window.

"Not long now," Cho informs us.

The last time that we were in this area was during a Red John investigation, this place has dealt with this monster before; seemingly fitting as this is where his downfall will take place.

Fitz's phone begins to ring, he answers it and sticks his forefinger in the other ear to block out noise. We all fall silent, partly to be polite and partly to be nosey; we try to listen in on the conversation, but it is difficult to hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying.

"Uh huh, and where did you find him?" he asks the caller.

The few seconds of silence is agonizing.

"Great, thanks," he ends the call, "uniforms have found Bob Kirkland…in Sacramento, he's got an alibi."

"Another one off the list," Jane faintly smiles, "just three more and we'll have our man…I'll finally find out who killed them…"

He trails off as he realises that we are all watching him. The look of hope on his face reminds us all what we are doing this for, not just to get our boss back, but to finally bring peace to one of our own. It's been ten years since _it _happened; nobody has really mentioned it, but_ it's_ been there, spurring Jane on from the outset. It's been his driving force for years…but how will he be when it's been taken away, when Red John is finally captured and incarcerated? Ever since he and the boss _got together, _he's been different, he's been – dare I say it – happier than ever. He's been able to share his emotions with someone who understands him, maybe even sharing…the 'l' word, not that it's any of my business. Finally, he'll be able to lead a normal life, with the knowledge that the man who killed his family and destroyed his life will be eligible for the lethal injection. And I'm pretty sure that he'll be there to watch the life leave that monster's eyes.

"Okay guys, we're here," Kimble announces, pulling into a hotel car park, "I'll check us in," he gets out, taking the car keys with him.

"How far away from here is the cabin?" I inquire.

"The end of the forest is about 3 miles or so, the distance to the cabin is about another 15 miles on top of that," Molly answers, "the snow and the route will slow us down. I hope everyone brought their snow boots."

"The earlier we set off, the quicker we get there, okay?" Jane tells us.

"Straight in, straight out; got it," we all nod.

Cho gathers us all in his room, where all the equipment has been set up, for the quick briefing before we set off into the forest. On the bed, he has laid out 6 of everything that we need; radios, maps (in case of emergency GPS thingy failure) and a few other things.

"We're gonna be leaving in 15 minutes, make sure that you've got everything packed," Cho orders, "whilst you are doing that, let's go over the rules; one: do not go anywhere alone; two: in the likelihood that we run into something _big_, nobody panic and play dead."

"Can you elaborate on 'big' please," Molly asks.

"Bears, mountain lions…" I answer her.

"Okay," she replies before resuming her packing.

"Everyone needs sun cream," Grace holds up a tube of the stuff, "snow reflects sunlight really well."

"Continuing on the rules," Cho interrupts our little tangent, "number three: Red John is gonna know that we're coming, be on the lookout at all times, heaven knows what he's gonna have in store for us."

As the others stuff their rucksacks full with the essentials, Grace pulls me aside and leads me out into the hallway.

"What it is?" I ask her as soon as we are alone.

She plants a kiss on my lips before answering, "I just need you to know that I'm glad that we're here."

"So am I," I reply before returning the kiss.

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss working with the team? Sure; but I miss working with you more," I smile.

"I just needed to know that you're okay being here."

"I would go to the world's end to protect every member of this team," I tell her truthfully.

"So would I, it just feels a little awkward being here," she looks down at the floor, "I just feel like I'm stepping on their toes."

"You're not…we're not," I quickly correct myself, "and I'm sure they don't feel like we are…stepping on their toes as you put it. We are here for the same reason they are; to rescue someone that we all care about."

"Yeah, you're right," she looks up at me again, "I'm just being silly."

"No, you're being reasonable…and that's what I love about you."

The door creaks open and a single eye appears in the gap, along with a few blonde curls.

"Come on, lovebirds," he says, "Cho hasn't finished giving us his speech yet."


	20. Chapter 19 - Molly Willis

**Chapter 19.**

**Molly Willis**

As we reach the bottom of the steady slope that ascends up into the puffy, dark grey clouds, giant snowflakes begin to cascade down from the heavens, adding to the already thick carpet of snow lying before us. Cho's 4x4 has taken us as far up the slope as it possibly could, from now we walk, much to the delight of my colleagues. All of us are leaning against the side of the car, tying up the laces on our snow boots – which are really comfy – and zipping up our thick winter coats. Slinging his bag on his back, Cho stands up straight and adjust the lengths of the straps; "everyone ready?" he asks.

"Uh huh," I reply, shoving my bag on my back.

"Everyone remember the rules?"

"Keep together, keep our eyes peeled and don't get eaten?" I answer with a hint of cheek.

Cho gives me a look but says nothing.

"We're ready Cho," Fitz says, before taking his first few steps into the knee deep snow, "whoa," he loses his balance and plunges face first into the previously undisturbed snow.

"Charlie? You okay?" Grace asks as Rigsby and Cho help him to his feet – I would help, but I'm too busy trying not to laugh at him.

He nods and the dusting of flakes fall from his face, leaving just a few snowflakes behind, caught in his stubble and hair.

"Well, that was…fun," he tells us, trying not to smile.

"Come on guys, let's stop mucking about," Jane's voice cuts through the atmosphere like a knife.

He too takes a few footsteps into the thick carpet and manages to stay on his feet, he points up the hill and turns his head to face me; "this way?" he asks.

I check the GPS and nod, "yep, that way."

"Okay," he responds before beginning to climb.

"Hang on," I call out and run to catch up with him; the other four quickly follow suite.

Patrick leaves a path for us that is easy to follow and makes it a hell of a lot easier; he continues relentlessly up the slope, the feeling that we are getting close must be spurring him on.

The events of the past few days begin to reel back through my mind: the news that the boss had gone missing; the murder of an innocent girl to a wicked man and the revelation that Red John was responsible for Lisbon's disappearance. Having had no experience with this killer in particular, I'm eager to learn from the people who know him the best; even though I know that they are reluctant to talk about what happened 10 years ago. I read up on Jane and the team before I applied for the job; the many cases that they solved and their alternative method to solving them. It's what attracted me to the job, the main reason that I came over here was to work with this team in particular. Even over the pond, they are famous amongst law enforcement. The chance to work with them was a once in a lifetime opportunity and so I took it. Working in Manchester was just the start; California is the probably the best thing that has ever happened to me and I'm loving every second of it – oh crap! I didn't mean Lisbon being abducted and all that…but murder, in a way, interests me; I mean, one bump on the head as a child can turn someone into a serial killer. Part of me is fascinated by this…but also slightly concerns me as I was extremely clumsy as a kid. So this 'interest' that I have with murder and death makes me wonder what happened in Red John's life to make him so evil, what brought about this hatred of people so much that he wanted to kill people in such a horrific manner? If I ever get the chance to speak to him one on one, that would be the main thing that I would ask him about.

The trail ahead begins to thicken and Jane is breathing quite heavily now.

"Jane, let me take the lead," I offer, "you look knackered."

"No…I'm…good," he pants, stopping to catch his breath.

"Jane," I place my hand on his shoulder, "please, you need to rest."

I look behind me and see the rest of the team in a better state than Jane certainly is. We all pause to catch our breath for a minute or so.

"Okay," Jane gives in, "you go first."

Sometimes, Jane's hard-headedness really irritates me, but then I understand that he feels responsible for what happened 10 years ago and what also happened on Christmas day. I head in front of him and begin to plough two separate lines in the knee deep snow, which has significantly thickened since the beginning of our little expedition. Instantly, my trousers begin to get soaked and the bottom of my coat begins to get heavier. The effort to wade through the snow is already killing my legs; bloody hell, I will never think positively about snow ever again. I used to love snow as a kid, living in England, it rarely snowed…and when it did, the whole damn country suddenly went into a standstill.

"How far away are we?" Charlie calls from the back of the group.

I pull the GPS thingy from my pocket and look at the small pulsating on the retro black and yellowy/green screen.

"We're two miles in," I answer him and look behind us, Cho's black 4x4 is visible in the distance.

"Oh god," he sighs.

"Only 13 or so more miles to go," I tell them, trying to sound enthusiastic, "it could always be worse. You try going around the city centre arresting drunkards on a Friday night!"

I only get a few brief smiles before continuing trudging through the snow. The snowfall begins to thicken even more, all I can see is a white screen in front of my face and the wind begins to pick up.

"Guys, I'm blind!" I call out above the howling of the wind.

I hear Patrick faintly reply something, but his voice is hushed by the wind.

"Guys!" I call out.

But the wind silences their responses. I hate not being able to see…ever since that thing that happened on that raid in…oh god…oh god…

A hand plants itself down on my shoulder and I scream.

"Calm down, it's me," Jane tells me.

"Jane, I can't see anything," I answer.

"It's alright," his voice is so calming, "just take a deep breath and walk forward."

I step forward, my foot slips slightly.

"Jane, are you still there?"

"Molly, I'm here, everyone else is here and you've just got to keep going."

"Jane, I can't see, what if…"

"Molly, I helped solve a murder with small bits of shrapnel in my eyes from an explosion," he tells me, "just keep walking forward."


	21. Chapter 20 - Charlie Fitz

**Chapter 20.**

**Charlie Fitz**

We've been travelling blind for an hour or so now, I bet we look like moving snowmen because certainly my jacket is caked in the stuff. We're relying on Molly's GPS knowhow and Jane's ability to calm her down. In front of me I can see the faint outline of Grace's bright red coat. We have zero visibility and it hasn't improved since; it's awful. Grace offered her hand to me so we wouldn't be separated, but I declined. As long as my feet stay in the tracks that Molly's made, I'll be fine. Luckily, we have been avoiding the tall pines that are scattered all over the place. The wind has made it difficult for us to talk to one another, but it's nice; I get to be alone with my thoughts. A lot of things are making me wonder; for starters, we never managed to fully trace that stamp. Secondly, how did Red John get up here with Lisbon? The snow would have covered all traces of tyre tracks but the snow would have been too thick for that…snowmobile maybe or something else? He couldn't have just sauntered up here; if someone like Cho is struggling to get up here, then if Red John is one of the remaining suspects – none of them are exactly spring chickens – they must have some sort of transport to get up here. And surely, it would've been easier to get all of the suspects in a room together, instead of going on a wild goose chase up mountains; if we'd have done that, this may not have happened.

There is a faint scream from up ahead, even though they are only a few feet away, I can barely hear them.

"What is it?" I shout to them.

A red figure approaches me; Grace slowly wades through the snow and stops a few inches away from me.

"We've hit a slight problem!" she shouts over the howling wind, "there's a wire up ahead, Wayne thinks that it's a trip wire, it's lucky that Molly didn't catch it!"

"Okay, what do we do?"

"Rigsby can disarm it, so we're gonna have to step over it," she answers, "follow me closely."

We wade inch by inch forward; the sweat on my brow begins to freeze in the cold and my hands begin to shake from fear.

"Stop!" she calls out; I do as I am told, "the wire is just in front of us. The other three have made it over," there are three dark silhouettes nearby, watching us, "ready?"

"Yep!" I reply.

"I'll go first and then you follow, okay?"

"Go for it!"

Grace lifts up her leg and the faint red figure disappears momentarily from sight, before popping up again.

"Your turn!"

Doing as instructed, I too lift my leg and move it forward. Even more sweat begins to freeze on my face and my teeth begin to chatter. I plant down my foot and nothing happens, I breathe a sigh of relief and bring my other leg over, I can feel a point of pressure on my shin, through the insulation in my boots, I continue moving my leg… and snag the wire.

"Oh crap" I curse, "GET DOWN!" I shout at the others and the figures disappear from sight.

The next thing I know, I am wedged up against a tree, a sharp nagging pain in my back. Black smoke billows from a pile of kindling a few feet away, filling my nose with a pungent odour. Sounds around me ring in my ears and my eyesight is extremely blurry, even more so with the thick snowfall. But what about the others?

"GUYS!" I call out, hoping for any sign of a reply, "GUYS, ARE YOU OKAY?!"

A layer of snow shifts beside my head and sends a fresh spray of the cold crystals into my eyes.

"Agh!" I move my arm to wipe my face.

"Oops, sorry," a familiar voice apologises.

"Wayne?"

"C'mon, Charlie, let's get you up."

He offers his hand, which I gratefully accept and he hauls me up out of the snow.

"That's the second time today that I've had to pick you up off your ass!" he smiles, jokingly.

"Hopefully, you won't have to do that again!" I reply, "how're the others?"

"Alright, but it looks like you got the worst of it," he answers.

"What was it?"

"He seems to have made an IED, you triggered the tripwire and well…boom," he tells me.

"Do you think that there could be more of these?"

"Possibly, if one wasn't enough to kill us, then it is extremely likely that there are more as we go further up."  
"How far away are we now?"

"About ten miles and time is definitely running out," he responds.

"It's going to be hard to pick up the pace and avoid mines at the same time, any ideas how we can do that?"  
"Not without a metal detector and I left mine back in Sacramento."

"If you were Red John…" I begin tentatively, "how would you arrange them?"

"Hmm…" he pauses to think, "randomly. I bet he has predicted our movements, our best bet is not to go about this typically, but to take it one step at a time."

"Go upwards but zigzag maybe?" I suggest.

"No, he'd be expecting that," he looks up ahead, "we need to discuss this as a team. They're up here…somewhere."

He grips my sleeve and we continue uphill, I follow Rigsby closely so we don't get separated; I'm guessing that we are following his tracks. Almost immediately, we run into four other figures, caked in snow, standing tall and rigid against the wind.

"Hey," Cho greets us, "you okay?"

"Yeah, but I'll be sore in the morning."

There are a few smirks, but we are quickly diverted back onto our task by Rigsby. He repeats our conversation before about other possible tripwires and IEDs that lie in wait for us.

"Unpredictable movements? Nothings unpredictable with _him_," Molly answers.

"We've got to try, what other options do we have?" Jane interrupts.


	22. Chapter 21 - Patrick Jane

**Chapter 21.**

**Patrick Jane**

We have been trudging through thick snow for about four more hours, and the exhaustion is beginning to set in. Although the wind has died down and the snow has nearly stopped, what they have left behind in their wake has made it a lot harder for us. We're cold, our clothing is soaking wet from the snow but worst of all, we're really hungry, which doesn't bode well with Wayne. Despite all of this, no-one is willing to admit defeat; one thought unites us - the thought of getting Lisbon back home.

Another few minutes pass, we pause to wait for Molly and Grace, who are both catching their breath up against a tree, clouds of water vapour nearly hides them out of sight. Fitz and Rigsby stay with them whilst Cho and I scout ahead. We wade further through the waist high snow up a steep rise, which is taking an age to climb; we leave two tracks for the rest to follow when they have finished resting up. The sight that we are greeted by when we reach the top of the rise is nothing less than stunning. We are completely surrounded by thick forest, which in itself is covered in a blanket by this evening's tidings of snow; the trees are completely caked in the white stuff. We are soon joined by the other four, who "ooh" and "ahh" at the stereotypical Christmas scene.

"What's that?" Grace says, shivering a little from the cold.

"That?" Molly asks Van Pelt, pointing to a vague shape in amongst the trees.

"Yeah," she responds.

"It looks like a cabin," Cho, in his usual fashion, puts it like it is.

Molly pulls out a GPS device from her coat pocket and cups her hand around the top of her screen blocking the harsh sunlight.

"That's where the signal is coming from," she tells us, looking a little excited.

That's where he is, I smile to myself, we're getting close. Just as I am about to start walking, Cho orders me to stop.

"We can't walk into this blindly," he reasons, "the place could be littered with more traps just waiting for us to walk through."

"I guess that we're gonna take the long way around," Molly sighs in exhaustion.

"Yep," Cho replies shortly, "it's getting late already; we need to get a move on before it starts getting darker." He looks up at the amber skyline; the sun has already begun to settle down for the night

After a few more minutes to catch our breath, we set off zigzagging down the left side of the hill in single file, each taking it in turns to be at the front and make a new path in the snow. It makes it easier on all of us and we are able to make a lot of progress...until Rigsby stops dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" I ask; I'm at the back after finishing my shift as 'path maker' and cannot see a thing.

"I think that there may be a tripwire ahead," Rigsby responds, pointing to a mound in the snow.

"Another IED?" Fitz guesses exhaustedly, absently rubbing his back.

"Possibly."

"Then what do we do?" Molly asks.

"We need to give it a wide birth, maybe walk further away that way," Rigsby points in the opposite direction to the cabin.

Meanwhile, Cho deviates from the path and picks up a pine cone lying underneath a pine tree.

"Cho?" I ask him, turning my attention off Rigsby, "what are you doing?"

"Time is running out," he responds before throwing the cone at the mound. We tense as, in slow motion, the cone heads towards the lump...it lands...we crouch down, expecting an explosion…and a rabbit sprints away into the forest, collapsing the small cave that it was taking refuge in.

"There," Cho states bluntly, "on we go."

We are all a little startled by our friend's actions; when we all shoot him quizzical looks, he shrugs his shoulders and tells us to think no more of it. We're a bit perplexed, to be honest, by Cho's actions; regardless, we carry on. Progress is slow, but every step we take is a step closer to Lisbon. No one complains, no one even mentions stopping; we trudge on.

For another hour we meander down the slope towards this mysterious cabin, though the closer we get, it looks like a hunting lodge – in a way, slightly ironic. We emerge from the tree line with and find that the snow is a lot easier to walk through as it is lighter-like icing powder. Cho takes charge, he pulls us out of earshot and sight of the cabin, hiding us in the dense tree cover.

"Wayne, Charlie, I want you two to stay hidden in the woods, stop him if he tries to make a break for it;" they agree and star to move off, "Grace, keep yourself hidden and you keep an eye on the back door, Molly, do the same but on the front."

"And what about you two?" She replies, pulling her firearm out of its holster.

"Jane and I are going in," he decides, "if we don't come out within 5 minutes, keep the area surrounded and call for backup," he informs her, "the fewer of us go in, the better, we don't want to spook him."

"He'll be ready for us," I add, "all that he has done is to lead us here, if he hasn't set a trap for us as soon as we open the door."

"Then we're going to have to be extra vigilant," Cho puts it gravely.

"Be careful in there," Molly tells us, "I don't know Red John that well, but from what I have heard, he always thinks two steps ahead."

"We'll be ready," Cho tries to not sound concerned, but all of us know that he is, he's as scared as us, "you ready Jane?" He asks.

"As I'll ever be," I reply, taking in a deep breath but instantly regretting it as its freezes my throat.

"Good luck," Molly tells us, before moving away to find her post.

"Jane," Cho turns to me and places a gun in my hand; he sees the confused look on my face and goes on to explain, "only use this as a last resort. I know what this man has done to you, but I trust you not to go in there all guns blazing, set to blow his head off. Off the record, if he has- in any way- hurt the boss, you have my permission to kill him," he gives me one of his quick, rare smiles, "but you didn't hear that from me."

I nod understandingly, "got it."

He pulls a second piece from his belt and checks the magazine before telling me; "let's go."

We move stealthily towards the cabin, the snow makes little noise beneath our feet as we approach. The door is unlocked and we continue; my heart feels like it is going to explode from my chest; the gun slides about a little in my hand as my palms are slick with sweat. Inside, the cabin looks very traditional, there is a fire blazing in the hearth and all the furniture are deep shades of red; there is a large head of a stag mounted above the fireplace and casts an eerie shadow as the fire flickers beneath. Cho begins checking the area, there is only one floor, so it makes it easier to search quickly. We sweep the cabin methodically, staring on opposite sides and meeting in the middle; I search the bedroom, bathroom and the kitchen, but with no such look and by the looks of things, Kimble hasn't found any sign of either of them. I'm opening every cupboard door, Cho is not really sure what I am doing.

"Jane?" He seems a little bewildered.

"Hang on," I yank open another door, but unlike the others, there are no tins of baked beans behind it; the back is missing and there is a staircase leading down. I pull out a torch and shine it down the hole. Cho joins me, but insists that, being the agent, he has to go first.

The staircase has shallow steps that trip us up every so often, and in the spirit of being helpful and not giving away where we are, they squeal and creak with every footfall. We reach the bottom; the air is freezing and the floor has a layer of soil which gives way easily under our feet. Here is a short but narrow corridor that we must go down. As we approach the end, Cho tries the lock, it opens after the first try. The door creaks open, revealing a small room. Our torches fall on the bed that is up against the wall; our boots grind against remnants of glass from the window pane.

"Lisbon?" I call out, hoping for a response from the still body wrapped in a single thin blanket and covered in a thin, dusty layer of snow.

Footsteps fall behind us, but we are too slow to react and Cho falls to the ground unconscious. I raise the gun at the darkness, but with nothing to aim at; I have to guess where he is.

"Put it down Patrick," calls out that voice, that snake like voice that has outsmarted us for more than a decade.

"Or what?" I turn to find the voice.

There is the cock of a gun before a barrel appears beside Lisbon's head.

"Or I'll blow her head off," he replies, smugly.

Amber light that floods through the window eliminates the whole room, revealing Teresa's prison. Cho is still out of it, splayed out by my feet. Red John is beside the bed, his face covered by that obscene mask, next to the bed, a pistol in each hand: one pointing at Lisbon, the other at me.

"Okay," I tell him, leaning down and placing the gun beside Cho.

"Good," he responds, patronisingly, "but hand it here, we don't want Agent Cho here waking up and have all guns blazing do we?"

"Why did you bring us here?" I ask, better to keep him talking.

"Many people have written books on me; some conclude that I am a sociopath, whilst others deem me a madman, they fail to see me as what I am."

"And what's that?"

"A king," he reveals.

"A king?" I parrot, a little confused by his arrogant answer.

"Yes, I have loyal followers, who do as I ask without question. I have copycats, who use my symbol to throw you cops off, they use my symbol for themselves. Then, I have observers; people who try to understand me, but fail to do so."

"They are the ones who end up being punished, aren't they?"

"Yes, as you know so very well," he answers slowly, "I told you that it is not wise to be an observer, because no one can truly understand me. I am not a subject for others to study."

"All those who do so tend to end up dead," I reply.

"Exactly! Once they know too much, they are a liability, they must be disposed of."

"What about me? Ten years and you never climbed into my house at night and cut me into a million pieces, why?"

"You're a clever man, Patrick; you'd make a great accomplice, you could have been an asset to me."

"You once called me a friend, you wanted me to join you."

"Yes, a man with such talents should not be wasted, Patrick, so my offer is open again, join me."

"Point your gun away from Lisbon and I'll consider it," I reply.

He pushes it closer to her head, I can imagine him smiling behind that mask.

"Think fast," he jeers, "my finger is feeling tired."

"Please," I beg, exhausted of this little game, "just move the gun away from her."

Red John pauses, before moving the gun from Lisbon's head and pointing it at me.

"Decide Patrick, I'm not going to wait here all day," he's getting annoyed.

"I never thought that guns were your style," I taunt him, "put them down and take me on, no weapons."

"You're testing my patience," he replies.

"Really? Well, put them down or are you just a coward."

That struck a nerve, he puts both guns in a belt around his waist and storms up to me, I try to fend him off but he is too fast and slams me up against the cinderblock wall.

"How dare you!" He roars, his voice suddenly much stronger, "I am no coward!"

He shoves his arm into my throat and holds it there, lifting me off the floor and making...it...hard...to...breathe.

"You'll pay for your mistake," his voice goes weird, it's not soft anymore, it's harsh, "poor Lisbon, unfortunately, she'll be the sacrifice you'll have to make."

"NO!" I try to scream and lash out at him, but only a pathetic squeal comes out and he blocks my feeble attempts to get him off me with ease.

"You're as weak as the day you insulted me," he spits, his voice is in the same tone as the many press conferences he did in front of the CBI building, with Teresa and myself beside him, "time to watch Teresa Lisbon die Patrick, and then you too will suffer the same fate, as well as the team you brought."

He drops me like a rag doll to the floor; I manage to grasp something cold and metallic from his belt as I fall.

Footsteps pound backwards…

"Say goodbye to Teresa, Patrick," Red John calls out from the growing darkness.

"Goodbye…Red John!" I cry and squeeze the trigger of the gun in my hand.

The bullet pierces his neck, sending his body backwards and into the cinderblock wall behind him. His body sags to the floor and blood dribbles from the hole in his neck, and as the blood cascades down to the floor, the reality that my great rival is dead sets in.


	23. Chapter 22 - Grace Van Pelt

**Chapter 22.**

**Grace Van Pelt**

Please tell me I didn't just hear a gunshot…please…Molly appears from around a tree on the right hand side of the house, she looks really worried; she lifts her arms as if to say "what happened?" She must have heard something too. I shrug my shoulders back, and although I hate to disobey orders, I un-holster my side arm and approach the back of the cabin, carefully meandering around small piles of firewood and an axe that is leaning quite close to the door. I try the lock; it's a little stiff but after a few tries it gives way and the door creaks open slowly. Before I go in, I rummage in my backpack and find the torch, I switch it on and hold it below the butt of my gun and step up into what seems like the kitchen. A light appears at the opposite end of the room, Molly has come in through the front door. I nod towards her and she begins to investigate the few open cupboard doors whilst I search the floor, looking for any obvious traces of blood. But there is nothing…there isn't anything that suggests that there was ever a struggle, never mind a gunshot. Something clatters to the floor behind me, I quickly turn to find Molly reaching down to pick up a tin of beans that had fallen from a shelf.

"Sorry," she mouths to me.

There is a faint noise that comes from beneath us: the basement! I mentally slap myself; of course, that was where Red John was keeping Lisbon.

"Molly," I get her attention, "have you come across anything that leads down to the basement?"

She shakes her head but continues to shift around the room, opening every door. There is another noise, this time much louder and is recognisable: Jane.

"Jane!" I cry out, though it is not the wisest thing to do, "where are you?"

Molly stops search and she scans the room, she's working out where his voice is coming from; following her train of thought, I too begin to scan the room, looking for any sign that might lead to a door or something…

"There!" Molly calls out, pointing to a medium height door with a light moving from side to side at the bottom of it. She yanks it open and Jane appears from the darkness, a torch in his hand and looking a little shaken, but he seems to be unharmed.

"Patrick," I breathe a sigh of relief, "where's Red John?"

"Dead," he answers bluntly, "Cho and Lisbon are down here; he knocked Kimble out and Teresa needs to get to a hospital."

"I'll get Charlie and Fitz," Molly offers, before rushing out of the front door.

"Jane, what happened?" I ask him seriously, hoping that he didn't come in here with the sole purpose of taking the serial killer out.

"I'll explain later," he replies, "but we need to get them up here."

"Sure," I answer as he disappears back through the door; I quickly follow suite and he leads me down a steep staircase and into a dank, dark room to find Lisbon and Cho out cold. In the corner is a body, dressed all in black and slumped over.

"Is that…?" I begin.

"Yes," Jane interjects, picking Lisbon up in his arms and walking towards the door.

I move closer to the body, aching to see the man behind the mask, the man who has evaded us for so long, the man who killed Jane's family.

"Don't," Jane's voice stops me, the tone is chilling.

"You guys down there?" A shout comes from the top of the staircase, accompanied with a bright light.

"Yeah, Rigsby," Jane replies, "Cho's here too."

Footsteps thud down the staircase and three faces appear behind Jane in the doorway. They allow Jane to pass and he disappears back up to the house; Charlie and Wayne come into the room and pick up Cho whilst Molly pulls a small digital camera from her pocket, she begins to take pictures of the room and the body in the corner. She too is tempted to remove the mask but she manages to restrain herself from the deed of revealing his identity. Instead, she systematically circles the room, taking a step, then a photo, then another step, and then another photo. I decide that it is best to get out of her way and follow the others upstairs.

Fresh kindling has been placed on the fire and it burns brightly; it's extremely inviting after spending hours in the cold. Cho has been placed in a chair quite close to the hearth and Jane is tending to Lisbon in the kitchen, carefully wiping away all traces of _his _mark whilst Wayne is looking at the burn on her hand. He warily unwinds the bandage to reveal a really nasty wound.

"How bad is the burn?" Jane asks Wayne.

"She's gonna need medical attention," he responds, "did we bring a first aid kit? We'll have to make do for now."

"I'll get it," I answer, "it's in my bag, I left it outside."

"I'll have some pain killers if they're being handed out!" Charlie calls out, grasping his back.

I wade back out into the snow, the wind has picked up a little and the crystals on the surface glide by like waves of the ocean; my bag is littered with the stuff when I reach it. Before returning, I wipe it clean and sling it over my shoulder.

Back inside, Cho has woken up and is drinking some bottled water with Fitz alongside; Jane has remained by Lisbon's side with Rigsby. Immediately, I head for the boss, followed by Kimble and Charlie. After I retrieve a couple of fresh bandages, Charlie roots through the bag for something to sooth his discomfort. We all watch bravely as Wayne begins to wind around Lisbon's charred hand, it's blistered and covered in blood, the burns look awfully painful, it's a good job that she isn't awake to feel this; we don't have anything strong enough to block the pain if she wakes up.

"Are there any bottles of water left?" Jane asks, grabbing a piece of kitchen roll from the worktop.

Cho hands him the remnants of his, he dampens it before removing Red John's mark from Lisbon's face.

"We need to get out of here…" Cho tells us, before pausing, "where's Molly?"

"Sorry," she pops her head from the staircase, "I was taking photos…" she trails off, growing uncomfortable that we are all staring at her.

"I doubt anyone has any signal," Cho sighs; immediately, we all check. Even shaking the damn thing doesn't do it any good.

"Check the landline," Jane suggests, to which Charlie complies.

"Nothing," he answers.

"So we have no way to communicate with the outside world," Wayne states.

"No, well…" Molly ponders, "it's just a theory."

"What?" Wayne asks.

"How did Red John communicate with us? The signal, an internet signal. If we could find his computer, then we could send an email home and tell them what has happened."

"Jane," Cho begins, "when you were searching before, you didn't happen to come across a computer of some sorts, did you?"

"I can't remember," he admits.

"Charlie, Molly, Grace," Cho turns to us, "could you have a look?"

I leave the other two to search one side of the house whilst I check the bedroom; it's mostly empty, just a few creases in the quilt on the bed and a drawer has been left ajar. But the prize has been left on the bedside table; sitting there, the lid open, is a laptop.

"Guys!" I shout, "in here!"

There is a series of thuds before everyone bar Jane is peering around the doorway.

"Molly," I turn to her, "it's all yours."

**A/N: **Really sorry that this one is late, a combination of work and music theory revision stopped me writing. Next chapter will be on the way soon, I promise.


	24. Chapter 23 - Teresa Lisbon

**Chapter 23.**

**Teresa Lisbon**

I open my eyes and I'm instantly blinded by a bright white light. This can't be right, did Red John…

"Oh no," I whisper, hoping that what I think is happening is not true.

"Lisbon," a familiar voice calls out, before a face appears and a handsome one at that, mounted on a set of strong shoulders clothed in the same dark blue jacket that he has been wearing for years.

"Jane?" I answer, "we're not…"

"Not what Teresa?" he asks softly.

"Dead?" the word comes out far too quickly in a scared voice.

"No, no we're not," his face softens, though concern is still visible in his eyes, "why do you ask that? Does something hurt?"

"No, it's just…there is just a really bright white light," I tell him, moving my hand up to try and block it out.

"Hold on," he smiles and disappears from sight.

"Jane? Jane, where are you?" I call out, the same fear settles in my stomach like when I was back in that…awful place.

"Ssh," his voice washes away the fear, "ssh, it's okay," he reappears, this time, he brings his whole body along too and the surroundings become more distinguished, "I've turned the lights down, your eyes mustn't have adjusted to the lights yet."

"Where are we?" I ask, placing my arm back by my side; there is nothing familiar about the room we are in and everything smells funny.

"Hospital," he smiles warmly, "they said that you had hyperthermia and the burn…well, you've had to have a skin graft because it was…bad, really bad."

"What the hell happened?"

"You need to rest," he quickly diverts the conversation.

"Jane," I look him straight in the eye, "we both know that is not going to happen," – I neglect to mention the fact that I'm terrified to do so – "please, just tell me."

He sighs and adjusts himself in his seat; leaning forward to grasp my hand.

"Okay, you win," he smiles, "Red John sent us an email and a live video link…"

He goes on to tell me about tracking the signal, and Tommy…and how they literally climbed a mountain to find me.

"Jane, thank you," I tell him, "how are the others?"

"They're fine," he answers, "in fact, I'd better call them and let them know that you're up; I promised them I would."

Silence falls between us for a few seconds, where I had the chance to phrase my next question.

"Is Red John…"

"Dead?" Jane interjects.

I say nothing, only nod.

He sighs, "yes."

I should know better to ask but... "tell me what happened."

He looks to the floor before looking up to face me; "I shot him," he says, "we talked then I shot him."

It's obvious that he is reluctant to say any more, so I don't push him, goodness knows how he feels.

"I'll call the others outside and leave you to rest," he tells me and squeezes my hand before rising from his seat, "you really should rest."

"I can't," I tell him, my voice gaining an octave and a tear begins to dribble down my face.

"Okay," he nods, wiping the tear from my cheek, "I'll just make this phone call and then I'll come back, I'll be just out that door."

I see the concern in his eyes which makes me feel even more vulnerable; the news that that sadistic psychopath is no longer here does nothing to quieten my nerves. But amongst those nerves, a thought rears his head…that promise…

"Jane," he pauses before the door, "I need to tell you something," he turns to face me.

"Yes?"

"I…I love you."

He nods understandingly, "I love you too," he smiles, "and I'm so glad you're home."

And then he leaves, and once again, I'm left alone in a strange room. After what seems like hours, Patrick returns to his seat beside the bed. He tells me about the helicopter ride that we took from the cabin to the bottom; where Cho, Van Pelt, Rigsby, Fitz and Willis were dropped off, but we stayed on board and brought to the nearest hospital.

At some point in the story I dropped off, not intentional at all and it wasn't because Jane's recollection of what happened was boring; it must have been the comforting sound of his voice that sent me to sleep.

The next morning, I wake to find no Jane sitting on the chair…I quickly scan the room, trying to find him, but he's nowhere to be seen.

"Jane?" I call out, but there is no reply; it's like being in that place again…"Jane!"

The door swings open and the blonde haired consultant wanders in, carrying two cups; from the draught coming from behind him, the odour of strong coffee floats fills half of the room whereas the other half smells sweeter; yet another one of Jane's special concoctions! He plants the white mug on the bedside table and sits down.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah," I try to sound convincing, but it doesn't fool Jane; I sigh, "no, I thought that you were gone and it…it reminded me of…"

"That place?" he interjects.

"Yeah," I answer.

"You'll never see that place again," he tells me, "it won't happen again, okay. He's not coming back, I assure you of that, I promise."

Later that day, everyone from CBI comes down to visit and I put on a brave face, not showing that there are any lingering effects about what happened. They all seem no worse for wear after their brave expedition taking them almost one hundred miles from home. Throughout the visit, they mention nothing of Red John, but talk of the weather and the fact that we are all back together again. I'm glad to see that Rigsby and Van Pelt helped out on this; to see them return to the serious crimes unit, even for a such as small stint as this. After an hour or so, they depart, leaving Jane and me alone again.

"When can we go?" I ask Jane.

"You can go when you're better; I can leave pretty much whenever I want," he replies, mockingly.

"Oh ha ha, you're so funny," I tell him sarcastically.

"If you want to go, that's your call," he answers seriously.

"I want to."

"Then I'll get the nurse and I'll drive you home," he smiles; taking his tea with him, he vanishes out the room.

One thing that I want to ask is…who is Red John? It never occurred to me until now that Jane hasn't told me who he was…one of seven men, all who could have easily been guilty. The right moment will come to ask that question in particular, but until that time, I'll wait.

Three days later and I'm waiting on Jane's balcony, looking out at the ebony sky littered with glitter like stars and the crescent moon. The snow has begun to melt, thank goodness, but the air still has that chill that will linger for the next few months.

"Jane, hurry up or you're going to miss it," I shout; the seconds to midnight are counting down and the anticipation of the firework display is building.

"I'm coming," he replies as he appears at the French doors, a glass of red wine in each hand.

"Good, I thought that you were going to miss it."

"Not for the world," he answers, "this year has been crazy, I just can't wait to wave it goodbye," he dodges around the chairs and stands beside me, handing over a glass; "next year will be better, I assure you."

"I hope so," thoughts of less murders and no Red John fill my mind, "yeah," I agree, "it will."

"How long now?" he asks, taking a sip of his beverage.

I take a look at my watch, "a minute."

"Good, that should be enough time."

"Time for what?"

He puts his glass down on the railing and turns to face me.

"Teresa, this year…it's made me focus on what is important in my life, about what's good, what's bad…and now that he's gone, I can focus on the future and stop living in the past," he pauses and takes a breath for a second, "what happened on Christmas day…it showed me what life would be like without you. Ten years ago, after what happened, I thought that my life had no purpose. When I joined the CBI, it was you who gave my life the much needed kick up the backside that it needed; you who gave me the opportunity to find Red John; it was all you Teresa."

A firework explodes in the distance; someone has gotten a little over-excited at the prospect of the New Year.

"You are the reason that I go to that building every day Lisbon," he continues, "so," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, before slowly descending onto one knee, "Teresa Lisbon, will you marry me?" he opens the box and reveals a beautiful diamond ring.

Fireworks pop and dance across the sky beside us as the clocks strike twelve, but nothing can pull me away from Patrick's gaze.

**To be continued…**

**A/N: **okay guys, now it's up to you! Do you want the next one to be like this (a chapter per character); from a single viewpoint or third person? Drop a vote in the review box or private message me – if you want a single viewpoint, please say which character! Voting will close Friday 15th November 2013, so cast your votes quick!

Until then my friends,

CallMeHannah. x


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